Fifteen Minutes
by Al Kristopher
Summary: It has been said that everyone will get fifteen minutes of fame in their lives, and so it must apply to the Suikoden characters as well. Immerse yourself in an engrossing epic that focuses on the unknown, the unsung, and the unappreciated.
1. Taggart's Journey: The Tale of Taggart

The Royal Disclaimer: I don't own Suikoden, Konami does. However, I own a copy of Suikoden 1 and 2, so that should count for something.  


Author's note: This is the first part of a Suikoden Trilogy I'm working on, which basically gives a brief story/background on all the characters that I felt were either grossly underdeveloped, thrown in for no reason, or else vague and mysterious. After all, don't we all deserve Fifteen Minutes of fame?

PS: If you would like to see a character up here, please email me, and I'll see what I can do. Enjoy!

  
**Fifteen Minutes**  
**Taggart's Journey: The Tale of Taggart**  
  
By Al Kristopher  
  
FirewallZ21@aol.com  
  
"It's him! He's here!"  
  
"What?! You can't be serious!"  
  
"Run away if you value your lives!"  
  
"What? You really WERE serious! It's him! It's Taggart of the Seven Suns!"  
  
"Run! Hide! Get away, ye dogs!"  
  
"Josef, come on! Get a move on! HE'S here!"  
  
"I'm slipping!"  
  
"The horses! Where are the horses?!"  
  
"Dead!"  
  
"So are we if we don't run! Move-move-MOVE!!!"  
  
Taggart of the Seven Suns smiled dryly as the camp of bandits scampered away. Obviously, in the middle of the burning desert, they had nowhere to go and nowhere to hide. The arid wasteland of the sand and sun was hardly the place to make a hasty retreat into; perhaps the bandits thought it better to die in the desert than be captured by Taggart of the Seven Suns.  
  
None of the eight men made a move. They merely amused themselves by watching the bandits scurry, run, flee, get out--anything to avoid torture or death via the Seven Suns. Only the imperials of the Scarlet Moon Empire demonstrated such terror and fear, and perhaps the City-States up north. The Seven Suns, and their leader Taggart, merely smiled.  
  
"Should we kill them too?" asked one of the men. Taggart's bland smile remained.  
  
"No, let them live," he replied. "Let them live, and let them die by themselves in the desert. Here, take the others and load up your sacks. I'm going to go look for water." The man saluted and prompted his horse to lead the other six in a sacking of the bandit camp. Taggart guided his own steed to the nearby oasis, which was littered with clothes and jars, courtesy of the escaping thieves.  
  
The Seven Suns consisted of the greatest hunters, fighters, and warriors in the land. Each one contributed great skills to the cause: Watauga's great swordsmanship, Mastaba's spying and undercover works, Compte's expert aim with the bow, Tilich's powerful strength, Breuil's massive fortune, Gallegos' agility and speed, and Zama's wisdom and strategy. Taggart, however, was their leader--a man of honor, of power, of deep respect.  
  
Taggart took as many jugs of water as he could carry, along with several items of clothes and other essentials. The Seven Suns would soon route out more bandits and thieves, and so they needed new provisions to assist them in their journey. Although neutral in any political or military arenas, the Seven Suns would pledge eternal allegiance to anyone with enough money to throw around. Their skills were highly sought after by both Imperial and City-State powers--after all, they had single-handedly fended off two small armies of rebels and monsters.  
  
It took a week to escape the desert, and another to reach the next destination. In the time that he had been commander, Taggart had liberated many villages and ended many unjust lives. He had no qualms about killing; the first time he had ended another man's life was when he was twenty-one, and it had been in self-defense. The Seven Suns were not cold-blooded either, but if it came down to it, they certainly knew how to fight back.  
  
Ever since they had laid siege to the now-defunct Toran Castle, the name of the Seven Suns had become infamous. In towns and cities alike, women ran screaming into houses, men grabbed children and old folks, and even soldiers and city officials couldn't help but perspire. Being part of the Seven Suns gave the members great fear and respect.  
  
The next destination was a large temple that had been overtaken by a group of murdering religious fanatics. Bizarre rituals and horrible acts of execution were said to take place there, and anyone who even approached the temple never returned alive. The Seven Suns were promised twelve large bags full of gold if they could kill every member of the cult and bring their heads back.  
  
  
  
The sun was just barely peeking out from the evening sky when Mastaba rode back.  
  
"They number fifty, no more or less," he addressed. Taggart nodded his head.  
  
"Zama," he said, "how many does that leave for us?" Zama paused briefly and did the math in his head.  
  
"Well, there'd be about six for each of us to kill, with only a fourth left over."  
  
"Only six?" grumbled Watauga. "My sword is not pleased. Now I understand why we were promised such a pitiful reward."  
  
"Then just think of this as an easy way to make some money," suggested Taggart. Watauga smiled and unsheathed his great sword. It sang in the evening sky, begging to be put to use.  
  
"When do we start?" asked Gallegos. "Dawn?"  
  
"Yes, dawn," said Taggart. "Most of these rituals are done at midnight anyway. If we strike then, we'll have a disadvantage. They'll be too tired to attack in the morning."  
  
  
  
The quiet of the misty pre-dawn morning was shattered by the storming of hooves and neighing horses. Eight beasts of burden tore through the temple, knocking over lamps and alters and statues. The sleeping cult members, who had gone to bed just five hours earlier, were far too dazed to stop the animals. Some were trampled to death.  
  
But this horrible catastrophe was merely an appetizer. No sooner had the horses stampeded through the temple did their riders take off after them, slicing and cutting at anything that was not an ally. None of the fanatics could even carry a weapon in such a confused and fatigued moment, let alone fight. In just one single hour, every member of the fanatic cult was dead or dying, and the minor problem was solved.  
  
  
  
"Ten-thousand gold coins," observed Zama. "It's actually more than we should have gotten for such a minor job."  
  
"The mayor of Rockland is a poor man," noted Breuil. He nodded at Taggart. "Why we even accept such easy missions is beyond me."  
  
"They're scraping the barrel for us, men," replied their leader. "They can't find anything that'll suit our tastes. We're just too skilled for our own good." The others let out a cheer and rode off to their next destination.  
  
  
  
"I still say that was too easy," grunted the powerful Tilich. "I mean, I'm not a smart guy like Zama, but I know an easy challenge when I see one. And that was as simple as they come."  
  
"Clearing the mountains of bandits is usually an easy job anyway," observed Taggart. "But you're right--we just can't find anything to soothe our restless spirits anymore."  
  
"I agree," said Compte. He sighed, and continued to ride off towards Gregminster. "Back in the day, we used to get a LOT of requests from Barbarossa, but now we're stuck with childish tasks." The other Suns remained silent; Taggart grunted.  
  
"Hey," said Mastaba, "you guys hear about this 'Liberation Army' that just sprouted up? I hear that General Silverburg's sister is the leader." The other seven men grumbled, some laughing.  
  
"You mean, uhh… Odessa Silverburg?" asked Tilich. Mastaba nodded his head.  
  
"Yeah. How much you wanna bet that the Empire wants us to quell that little army?"  
  
"I wouldn't stake too much on it," said Breuil. "If it's really that small, then they can handle it themselves."  
  
"Agreed," said Taggart. "But still, I want you all to keep your ears and eyes open. We may still get the call."  
  
"Gotcha, boss," said Breuil.  
  
  
  
Their next mission made the Seven Suns smile. It was a suicide mission, one that would surely spell a grisly demise for each of the wandering warriors. Basically, they were to infiltrate the City-State of Jowsten and gain as much information as they could about King Blight's future plans: invasions, troops, provisions, opinions, etc. They would be in enemy territory, they would be heavily outnumbered, and they would probably never make it back.  
  
In short, it made them smile.  
  
  
  
"Special request from Emperor Barbarossa himself," addressed Taggart, showing the border guard his pass. The guard swallowed, completely intimidated by the other eight men.  
  
"Y-yes, I s-see. W-well, it l-looks like y-you have everyth-thing in order, s-so I'm gonna l-let you p-pass." Nervously, the guard opened the gate and stepped aside, hoping that none of the eight men would notice him.  
  
Those Jowsten pigs didn't stand a chance.  
  
  
  
All eight members of the Seven Suns had been in Jowsten territory before; three of them called it home, and Taggart was one of them. Usually, if someone from the Empire made it inside of the City-States, they would either be arrested or killed; the Seven Suns wandered through the fields and meadows by themselves. Not even the monsters prevented them from reaching their destination.  
  
"What a drag," grumbled Watauga. "We came all this way to bash some skulls, and all we get is a cold reception!"  
  
"I didn't know we were that infamous," mumbled Gallegos. Mastaba laughed.  
  
"You have no idea, do you?" he asked.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"He means that even babies recognize us," said Taggart. Watauga laughed.  
  
"Yeah. I even overheard a parrot squawking about us." The other men smiled politely. Suddenly, Compte's sensitive hearing picked up a slight rustle in the bushes. He pointed his finger at them, and weapons were unsheathed. From out of the shrubs came a creature that made a few of the men sigh in relief. There was nothing to fear from this beast.  
  
"Just a griffin," observed Mastaba. The others sighed, cast a quick lot, and let fate decide who would do the honors. The dice fell to Gallegos, who speedily sliced the creature's chest open with two flicks of a knife. Having disposed of the creature, the eight wandering warriors galloped towards L'Reinoulle.  
  
  
  
Deep inside enemy territory, the Seven Suns would have to rely on Mastaba's spying abilities to see them through. Like most of their other missions, they were being paid poorly for such a dangerous job: only one- hundred thousand gold coins, that would have to be split up between the eight of them. Because of his wealth, Breuil would get the least, and because of his position as leader, Taggart would get the most. Zama, a renowned mathematician, would try to split the winnings up as best he could.  
  
Obviously, money was the most prominent thought on the warrior's minds. The severity and risk of the mission was trite; at most, they could expect to lose their pride. Only one force in the entire world had been able to defeat the Seven Suns, and that was only after many casualties had been afflicted onto the opposing side. Out of all their benefactors, Barbarossa was the one that posed the greatest mistrust; it was his five Generals that had defeated the warriors.  
  
"Approaching Luh Reenolle," said Tilich. Taggart grunted and smiled.  
  
"L'Reinoulle," he said, pronouncing the name perfectly. "But who cares, right? In a few seconds, King Blight is going to receive some very famous and very unwelcome guests, am I right?"  
  
"Unwelcome, he says," snickered Compte. Taggart smiled again and picked out three of the warriors to act as the main group of spies.  
  
"Mastaba, I want you to bring Compte and Gallegos with you. You three are the fastest and the most secretive, so I can count on you to do the dirty work. Watauga, you and Tilich will come with me. We'll barge in from the front and the sides and surround the guards while Mastaba's team floods them from within. Breuil, Zama, I want you two to come in after us and finish off the guards. I don't want to cause a ruckus--"  
  
A great fit of laughing overcame the Seven Suns. Taggart smiled patiently.  
  
"Seriously, though," he continued, "it's not our job to kill these people, just to spy on them. That's why I'm relying on you, Mastaba. You're going to be my number one guy for this mission, and I want everyone else to support him. Understood?"  
  
"Yes, sir!" saluted the Seven warriors. Taggart nodded his head.  
  
"We'll take two hours to refresh ourselves," he said. "By then, most of the guards should be having dinner. We'll attack while they're eating and distract everyone while Compte and Gallegos filter out as much information as they can. Once you think you've got enough, blow your horns four times--that's four times, and that'll be the signal to retreat. I repeat: if you hear a horn being blown four times, RETREAT. That is an order. Do you understand?"  
  
"Yes, sir!"  
  
"Good. Now, let's set up camp and refresh ourselves."  
  
  
  
Two hours passed. Those Jowsten pigs never knew what hit them.  
  
"Torches! Bring torches!"  
  
"Torches nothing, I'm stocking up crossbows!"  
  
"Stock up provisions! Bar the gates! Don't want anyone else coming in!"  
  
"Sir! Fifteen of our finest guards have been killed!"  
  
"Sir! Reports say that it's the Seven Suns!"  
  
"WHAT?!"  
  
"They're robbing the storehouses!"  
  
"They're burning down the barns!"  
  
"All our horses have been freed!"  
  
"No! What are they up to now?" Taggart and his friends cackled madly, riding and whooping in the late night air. In the massive confusion, it appeared as if there were much more than just eight warriors scurrying about; half of the guards were too blind to even notice they were fighting their own ranks. Taggart himself had entrusted Mastaba and Tilich to handle the soldiers; he himself would pay a visit to the treasury vaults.  
  
  
  
"Sire! Sire! We're under attack!"  
  
"What!?" Agares Blight nearly leaped out of his throne, the burning rage building in his voice. "Alert all commands! Bring archers to the tall towers! Summon our finest warriors to this very room!"  
  
"That's impossible, Sire! Our archers have already been killed, and nearly a tenth of the others have been slain with them!" Agares Blight growled fiercely.  
  
"Who is it? Is it Barbarossa?"  
  
"No, sire! Rumor has it that it's the Seven Suns!"  
  
"IMPOSSIBLE!!" roared Blight. His son Luca glowered.  
  
"Ah, I was wondering when they'd show up," he cackled. A mighty sword was unleashed from its scabbard. "Lucifer and I are glad to hear that--hehehehehehehe! You know, I've always wanted to test my mettle against the might of the Seven Suns--especially that Taggart! Heeheeheeheeheeheehee!!" Luca grinned viciously, cackled madly, and nearly stormed out of the room before being stopped by his father.  
  
"Wait, Luca! I know these Seven Suns better than you do! There's a good chance that you may die!" Luca roared out in rage, nearly foaming at the mouth.  
  
"A good chance I might die?!" he spat. He chortled heartlessly. "Hahaha--that's a good one, old man! No, no, no, I shall live--they're the ones that shall die, not I!" He cackled again, and hastily stalked out of the room. Agares Blight sighed, powerless to stop his barbaric son.  
  
  
  
"That's the signal," noted Zama, pricking his ears up. No mistaking it--the sound of Compte's horn being sounded four times echoed across the night air. Zama grunted, hastily guiding his steed to the gate. He never got past the drawbridge.  
  
"What's the rush?!" snarled Prince Blight, his powerful sword lit up like a torch. Zama cursed quietly and brought out his own sword.  
  
"Out of my way, highness," he ordered. Luca Blight nearly suffocated from the laughter, and continued laughing as he rammed his blade into Zama's stomach.  
  
"You worthless maggot!" spat Luca, gleaming joyfully. Zama grunted in pain, but managed to shove a small knife into Luca's arm before falling to the ground in a heap.  
  
"Zama's been killed!" shouted a voice. Compte's strong sense of hearing picked up the previous statement, and his heart sank. To kill even one of the Seven Suns was no easy task; all evidence pointed to the maniacal Prince Blight, for he was possibly the only man in Jowston that could commit such a deed.  
  
"I must avenge him," said Compte to himself. Digging his trusty crossbow from his satchel, Compte aimed the arrow straight at the evil Prince's nose. Even though the two warriors were on separate sides of the castle, Compte's eyes and aim would have killed a man miles away. Wordlessly, he pulled the trigger, sending an arrow singing into the night.  
  
He gasped in horror as Luca Blight caught the arrow and snapped it in two. Having been spotted, Compte vaulted over the castle wall and cautiously scaled down. He was stopped short by a salvo of arrows from behind, and never lived to see another sunrise.  
  
  
  
Watauga growled fiercely. Breuil was dead, all right, and from the looks of it, he had been killed by Luca Blight. No ordinary sword could have dug such a deep wound in Breuil's body; no, that was done by a very special blade. Watauga knew his swords well; he recognized the cut and even the depth and severity of the scarring, and matched it up to the design of a sword named Lucifer, Luca Blight's sword.  
  
Watauga cursed silently and unsheathed his own weapon. Luca Blight was a mere ten meters away, completely unaware of the swordsman. He was chortling uncontrollably, and would never see Watauga coming. Silently, the swordsman creeped closer… closer… closer…  
  
"You think I didn't notice you, pig?!?!" screamed Luca suddenly, ramming his blade in Watauga's stomach. The inferior swordsman collapsed, spat out blood and curses, and fell to the floor. Luca giggled viciously, dipping his hands in the blood of another foe. Suddenly, the defeated swordsman rammed his own blade into Luca's body, but only managed to slice off a small portion of his side. Luca cursed, lopped off the man's head, and cackled as he licked the blood off of his hands.  
  
By sunrise, the entire castle was quiet. The sounds of a raid had long ago ended; the sounds of people screaming and dying might never end. Four of the Seven Suns were dead; Mastaba and Gallegos had escaped and would lead rich lives for the rest of their years, Tilich had disappeared, and Taggart…  
  
Taggart was in prison. He would be executed in three days.  
  
One day passed without anything to show for it, except an empty belly and a sleepless night.  
  
Another day passed, leaving Taggart sickly and wan.  
  
The dawn of the third day came, and Taggart received his very first visitor.  
  
"And… this is the leader of the so-called Seven Suns?"  
  
"Yes, he is."  
  
"He looks pale. Have you been feeding him?"  
  
"No, we have not. Part of the punishment."  
  
"I see. No such thing as a final meal?"  
  
"Not for the likes of him."  
  
"Hm, I see. And his surviving friends?"  
  
"Unimportant. They won't return for him."  
  
"I see. May I speak with him?"  
  
"Of course. He's unarmed, of course, and he's too weak to fight back."  
  
"Thank you." One of the two men left the prison, but the second one remained. Silently, he opened the jail door and let himself inside the cell. Wordlessly, the man found a stool and sat on it, and stared at Taggart's starving body.  
  
"Who are you?" asked Taggart weakly.  
  
"My name is Warren," said the man, "and I'm a very important person. Let's just leave it at that, shall we? And who are you?"  
  
"My name is Taggart, and I used to be important as well," replied Taggart. "Let's just leave it at that." Warren smiled lightly.  
  
"Fair enough. You know, Taggart, I shouldn't say this, but that was a very brave thing you did the other night."  
  
"Not really," replied Taggart. "I've done much bigger jobs than this. Oh, sorry, I should have told you. I'm sort of like a traveling mercenary, at least I was until today. You see, I was hired by Barbarossa to infiltrate Jowsten and ascertain whether any warlike feelings exist within the City-State. I suppose the mission was a mixed success; my other three friends are nowhere to be found, but everyone else is dead, myself included." Taggart swallowed and sat up, gazing at the other man dully. "That's why I'm telling you all this. I'm going to die very soon, so I really have nothing to lose."  
  
A pause. Warren smiled, just barely.  
  
"I admire your spirit," he said. "But such a spirit as yours cannot be doused so early. I realize that you were the leader of the Seven Suns, and I realize that you sold your skills to the highest bidder; still, I cannot help but admire you." He paused, only briefly, and cleared his throat. "That is why I wish to offer you a job."  
  
"I'm kinda out of the business now," replied Taggart dryly. "The Seven Suns are no more--dead, vanished, retreated, or imprisoned like me. I'm useless now."  
  
"Not entirely," replied Warren mysteriously. "I meant I wanted to offer you a job individually. Now, there's no way for me to bail you out of prison, but if you wish to live, I can arrange for you to become my servant. I guarantee you, it is better than death, and I have been told that I am a good master." Taggart smiled, although hardly amused, and grunted to himself.  
  
"Just like that?" he said.  
  
"Just like that," nodded Warren. Taggart grunted again, nearly laughing out loud.  
  
"Of course I'll take the job," he said. "I'm thirsty, I'm hungry, I'm restless, and I'm a condemned man. I'd have to add insanity to that list if I refused your offer." Warren smiled, and the two men shook hands.  
  
"I shall make the arrangements myself," said Warren. "Later this afternoon, I will have my escort come and release you from these bars, and you will have to come along with me. Of course, you realize that you must call me 'Master Warren' from now on, at least until you pay me back for this debt." Taggart smirked and crossed his arms.  
  
"I knew there'd be a catch," he grunted.  
  
  
  
And that's how it was.  
  
The End


	2. Dirty Business: The Tale of Kun To

****

Dirty Business--The Tale of Kun To

By Al Kristopher

His name was Kun To, and he was involved in some rather questionable occupations. On the surface, he was a merchant--although sometimes his "honest" occupation bordered on the lines of illegitimacy. Kun To was a man who knew the right people--although many of these people were more of the "wrong" type than anything else. One of the more important people that Kun To knew (the most important person he knew was, of course, himself) was a man named Jesro.

Jesro himself was a rough fisherman who enjoyed drinking and fishing and drinking and singing in the local taverns and drinking and skirt-chasing and more drinking (he only got drunk once in his life) and maybe working with Kun To. Jesro was quite wealthy for an independent fisherman; his skills were highly sought after by the subjects of the Scarlet Moon Empire.

Another member of Kun To's cadre of questionable friends was a very quiet and very intelligent scrivener named Brewtus Oveneimer von Prindli, or just Bop to his friends. Although Bop could never boast the strength of Jesro, nor the wily ways of Kun To, he was by far the most intelligent of the small gang. Bop had once been a scholar in Greenhill; he had also worked for Qlon Temple, as well as the township of Antei. He was an elderly man with a clean appearance and a firm gait, and if he was paid right, he kept important records and documents for Kun To.

Nowadays, Kun To is the "boss" of Kirov (that is, he won the town in a high-stakes gamble), but in earlier days, he was merely an integral part of the merchant's guild. Being the second-in-command, under a cunning peddler called Veer, Kun To controlled a large portion of the "empire", from trading to imports/exports. He was even responsible for what was sold, the quantity of merchandise, and even its price--which, although it may sound simple, was probably the most important part of the guild's business.

But enough of that. Kun To was more than a cunning merchant and a shrewd businessman; he was also a wanted man, an outlaw, a gambler, a one-time pirate, you name it. The law and Kun To were more than mere enemies; it was almost as if they lived to shun away the other.

Here's an example: one day, Kun To hired Jesro and some other friends to steal several boats from a rival merchant. Kun To then stored the boats in a special dock for a year, painted them a different color, fixed them, improved them, and personally sold them back to the man he stole them from--at a high price, of course. The poor rival never suspected that Kun To was friends with the man who stole the boats, nor did he realize that his "new" shipment was in fact the very boats he had stolen from him.

Here's another example: one day, Veer discovered a grove of trees that produced a healing medicine in their sap. Unfortunately, these trees were growing on the border edge of the Matilda Knight's property, but that did not stop him. Veer hired dozens of lumberjacks to secretly cut down the trees and steal as much sap as possible. The trees would later be sold to Matilda as lumber; the sap's medicinal properties would also be sold to the unsuspecting knights. Nobody suspected a thing until it was too late.

But perhaps one of Kun To's finest (albeit mysterious) escapades happened on a beautiful snowy morning, when the rivers were nearly frozen over and the boats refused to move. _Work don't quit in the winter,_ Veer had said, and the merchant's guild grudgingly agreed. Never was this more apparent on a bright Saturday afternoon--the same day that would bear the greatest profit and adventure and danger for Kun To and his friends.

On that day, the merchant's guild had received three very special and very unusual shipments. One of them was a briefcase full of papers--"important documents", or so said their client. Another was a sealed treasure chest--"evidence", but nobody was told what it was exactly. The third shipment was a living person, a passenger--"the guardian", said their client. He was a very young boy, roughly fifteen, and he shivered like a frightened toddler.

"It's not that cold, young mastah," called Jesro, wearing a wool coat. He smiled at the shivering young boy, who had nothing more than a tunic and a balladeer's hat. Bop wordlessly sighed, steadily walked across the large schooner, and placed his mantle over the boy.

"Here," he said. "It's not much, but it will keep you warm."

"Th-thank you, s-sir," shivered the boy. Bop allowed a very faint smile, then returned to his quarters to continue his studies. Kun To, steering the ship with frozen hands, stared curiously at the child. He had received three peculiar shipments, and he hardly knew anything about them. Oh, their content and purpose was not his business--just to deliver the cargo and receive payment upon arrival.

_"Excuse me, are you the one called Kun To?"_

"I am," replied the merchant. "Do you have any business with me?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." The mysterious man looked around him, making sure that nobody saw him come in. Silently, he produced several scrolls from his shirt. "I need you to take these scrolls somewhere safe," he said, more or less forcing them in Kun To's hands. The older man grunted and nearly opened one. "No, don't!" hissed the mysterious man. He sighed, and stored the parchments in a briefcase. "Whatever you do, do NOT read these scrolls!!" Kun To sighed.

"I guess it's not my business anyway," he concluded. "All right, I'll deliver these. Where are they headed?"

"I can't tell you that," whispered the man suspiciously. Secretly, Kun To became more interested in this "precious" cargo. They were just a bunch of scrolls that this strange man has been carrying with him. Why would he be so secretive with them? What could possibly be so important?

"Then how am I gonna know where to take these?" demanded Kun To. The man smiled and ushered a young boy of about fifteen years in front of him.

"He will know the way," said the man, pushing the small lad forward. "He'll tell you where to go. Just keep him and those manuscripts safe, and my friend will pay you whatever you ask." Kun To frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"So all I have to do is sail this boy and those papers to some unknown place, right?"

"Exactly!" sighed the other man, a look of relief washing over his burdened shoulders. He paused briefly, and took out a small treasure chest. "This is the evidence. That's all you need to know. Just tell my friend that this is the evidence, and he'll pay you whatever you ask." Kun To eyed the box and the boy, his curiosity reaching an apex.

"All right," he shrugged, pulling the box into his possession. "Now who's this friend of yours? Can you tell me his name?"

"His initials are 'T. H.', and he has a younger brother. That's all you need to know." Kun To frowned, and shrugged.

"It's not my business to ask. But depending on where this place is, your friend might have to wait for some time. Can you tell me how far away this place is?"

"A week's journey," replied the man nervously. He looked over his shoulder, perspiring slightly as a small group of Imperial soldiers wandered by. Kun To did not notice them; he merely had Jesro and Bop load the guild schooner with the cargo.

"I see," he said. "Well, normally I take payment in advance, but if you sign a document swearing that your friend will have the money ready, then I'll make an exception."

"Bless you, sir!" cried the other man, hastily signing his name on a sheet of guild paper. Kun To frowned, knowing full well that the name was an alias.

"Tesla, huh? Well, nice doing business with you, Tesla. See ya 'round."

A week had passed with nothing to show for it.

"Where's this place again, boy?" asked Jesro, slurping at a small portion of stew. It was still bracingly cold outside, still snowing, and it was only slightly less chilly in the mess hall. Food was not scarce, but warmth was, and nearly all items of clothing had been donated to the mysterious young lad that was traveling with them.

_He must be protected at all costs,_ Kun To had said.

"We'll be arriving there soon," said the boy, slowly slipping some potatoes and gravy in his mouth. He was normally a slow eater, but in frosty weather, all foodstuffs had to be eaten hastily or else lost to the cold. "We've been experiencing some nasty weather, so that'll slow us down. But don't worry, we'll be there within a day or two." Jesro frowned and gobbled up the rest of his meal.

"I hope you're right, boy," he grunted. "Boss Kun To's not used to sailing in such freezing weather. Let's just hope that we're going to a tropical city." The boy said nothing as he finished his stew, and Jesro left to make sure that the supply of fish remained constant.

Another day passed, and the snowstorm briefly parted. In the bright early morning, Kun To stood on the crow's nest, breathing in the thin, crisp air of a winter morning. He smiled warmly as he saw a tiny speck of land in the distance, and put a whistle to his mouth. A loud, sharp TWEET alerted all hands that land would be reached, and the nameless boy was brought up to see if it was their destination.

"Can you see anything, boy?" asked Kun To. The boy smiled, rubbing his eye gently.

"Yes, this is where we're headed. Make docking preparations in the first port town you'll see, and leave everything up to me. Oh, and make sure that Mr. T. H. pays you for your services, though, because sometimes he forgets these things." Kun To smiled in an almost-empathetic sort of way, and gently helped the boy scale down the crow's nest.

The schooner reached the town--Coronet Town, to be exact--safe enough, and once docking preparations were complete, Kun To, his two aides, and the boy searched for the man that was supposed to receive the cargo. It was not snowing just yet, and the bright morning was still clear and cold and very invigorating.

With nobody to greet them, Jesro and Bop made themselves scarce and wandered their way to the nearest marketplace. Kun To and the boy stayed behind, waiting patiently for their client's friend. After what seemed like fifteen minutes ("He's always a little late," warned the boy), they finally saw two men approach them: one bearded with brown hair, one much younger with long blonde hair.

"Are you Kun To?" asked the bearded man. Kun To nodded his head.

"Are you T. H.?" he asked. The bearded man smiled.

"Yeah. Ah, good old Tesla, always a little too cautious. Name's Tai Ho, friend, and this is my brother, Yam Koo." The younger blonde man merely nodded his head as he shook hands with the guild master.

"I, uh…" began Kun To, reaching into the briefcase with the scrolls, "I have something here for you, from Tesla."

"Oh, goody!" exclaimed Tai Ho, his eyes lit up. "The scrolls! Heh, this is really great! And I see that you've brought Big Tommy with you as well!" The boy smiled shyly, staring down at the cold pavement. Kun To nodded his head, and quietly produced a treasure chest.

"And here's the, uh, _evidence_," he whispered. Tai Ho's face grew grave as he gently took the light chest into his position.

"Thanks, man," he said, not daring to open the box. "You really don't know how much this means. Really, thanks."

"Ah-hem," grumbled Kun To, rubbing his thumb against his index and middle fingers. Tai Ho saw it and chuckled.

"Hey, Yam Koo!" he shouted, his arms still burdened by the box. "Give Kun To the payment: a hundred-thousand potch, and not a single coin less."

"Big bro's always forgetful," murmured Yam Koo, digging into his heavy kimono. He produced several ten-thousand-potch notes, and gave them to Kun To in lieu of payment. "Thanks, sir."

"My pleasure. Well, Tai Ho, Yam Koo, Big Tommy, I wish you luck with whatever that is. I'm going to stay here in this town and rest up, and maybe we'll bump into each other again."

"Sure, why not?" shrugged Tai Ho. "It's a small town. Besides, I've got connections with the merchant's guild as well. Maybe someday we'll be working together." Kun To nodded his head, and smiled wryly.

"Perhaps."

Kun To and Gules Burnside stared at each other, eyeing the other man like wolves over a slab of meat. It was a dark and seedy room, filled with the smoke of a pair of avid gamblers. This was their seventh and final game: Kun To had won three games, and Gules had won the same. This would be it, then--no more. Everything was riding on this gamble.

Carefully, the dealer gave Kun To a card from the pile, and he added up the numbers in his head. Eleven. No matter what he got, he would still be in the game. Blackjack was a favorite game of his; only Chinchiriron pleased him even more. Ever since the two started playing, the stakes went higher and higher. Kun To lost three-thousand potch, a boat, and a valuable pocket watch in the last three games; Gules had to fork over four-thousand potch, a deed to a small plot of land, and his prized fishing rod.

Kun To had all his boats riding on this last gamble; Gules had an entire town in the pot. Kirov had probably been ruled by more people than any other town in the world: over twelve different "bosses" laid claim to it, and Gules Burnside would certainly not be the last. As the dealer gave Gules two more cards from the pile, the smoke grew, the tension thickened, and Kun To was given another card. Seventeen. Only four cards could help him now; best to quit his hand.

"I'm staying," said Gules, holding a collection of five cards. Kun To mentally cursed. With his boats on the line and a cigar in his mouth, he carefully muttered the words that might seal his fate.

"Hit me." The dealer wordlessly handed the merchant another card, and Kun To's heart skipped a beat. The four of spades. He nearly cursed, or perhaps he nearly cried, but one thing was certain: Kun To could not believe his luck. The four of spades stared right back at him, almost smiling.

"I'm staying," he said, a tiny trace of nervousness in his voice. Kun To was not a great gambler, nor was he a terrible one; he certainly wasn't a very good actor, either.

"Show your cards," said the dealer blankly. Gules, the winner of the previous game, laid his down first.

"Give me your boats, Kun To," he said triumphantly. "I have a twenty."

"Shoot!!" cursed Kun To, slamming his fist on the table. Gules cackled softly, but nearly had a heart attack when Kun To revealed his own hand. "Kirov's too far away from the merchant's guild! What are you making me do, Gules? Start my own business? Go out as an independent businessman?" Gules cursed himself and ripped up his hand.

"Of all the rotten luck," he mumbled, grudgingly handing the deed to Kirov over to Kun To. "Ahh, but I'll get you next time, Kun To! You were just lucky!"

"Well of course!" replied the merchant smugly, tucking the deed in his pocket. "Isn't that how one plays the game?"

Years passed, and believe it or not, Kun To turned into a successful and responsible businessman and leader. Of course, he still dabbled in dirty business now and then, but soon those practices gave way to more legal affairs. He heard little of Jesro, Veer, or Bop after that, except to say that Jesro wandered down to Radat, Veer retired from the guild, and Bop returned to Greenhill. Tai Ho still kept in touch, but never mentioned the purpose or the result of that strange delivery.

Kun To grunted as he walked into his house. He was hungrier than a bear and Lester was nowhere in sight.

"All I ask is a meal now and then," he mumbled. "And I can't even get that! Confound that Lester, who does he think he is?" A knock on his door jarred him out of his thoughts. "Yes, who is it?!" he shouted. His demeanor didn't change much when he saw Tai Ho and what appeared to be Teo McDohl's son enter his house. The former man was a welcome sight, but the latter was a questionable sort. _Isn't that boy the leader of the Liberation Army?_ he asked himself. Kun To shook his head, preparing for the worst. _Well, whatever they want,_ _it will just have to wait._

The End


	3. She-Devil: The Tale of Camille

****

She-Devil: The Tale of Camille

By Al Kristopher

I was born in Rikon, and if you ask around, there's a lot of people that'll tell you that I died in New Kalekka, and I'm going to let them say that. I'm what you might call a "debt-collector", although there's plenty out there that would list me as a bounty hunter. A lot of people, mostly men, say that I'm the most beautiful woman they've ever seen. Again, it's better to just let people say what they will. After all, it's usually true. At least that last sentiment is.

Oh, I really was born in Rikon, and I really am a bounty hunter--sort of. But I'm not just a pretty face with a sharp spear and an equally sharp tongue. I happen to be a very sensitive, very caring, very lovable young lady. I'm stylish, I'm sophisticated, I'm suave, I'm debonair, and I'm quite dangerous. There's no denying that--anyone that crosses me will wish they had been attacked by a bear instead of me.

My childhood was as bleak as a foggy pier in the middle of a rainstorm. My parents died when I was just a baby, and so I was taken to a local orphanage until I was old enough to live on my own. I had a twin brother to take care of me, so it wasn't like I was alone or anything. Ah, my brother…

Let it be known right now that I am fully capable of loving other people. I'm not all blood and ice now, mind you--I really DO have a sensitive side. My brother was one of those people who I loved dearly: after all, he looked after me, he protected me, he taught me everything I know. If you think I'm good with a spear, you should've seen my brother fight.

Actually, the warrior who taught us _both_ should have all the credit. Back in the day, the legendary Kobold warrior Lokiwonoki partook an annual sojourn to the orphanage where my brother and I grew up, and on one particular stay, he decided to train us in the art of lancing. Oh, Lokiwonoki was a mind-boggling creature, and his strength is talked about even to this day, seven years after his death. I named one of my spears after him, even.

Let's flash forward a few years. Manille and I (Manille is my brother's name) have finally graduated from high school--well, to be more precise, it has now been five years since our graduation. A few high school friends of ours paid us a visit, and together, we rode off towards the old school for our first reunion. By now, Manille was a fine fighter and a very attractive young man. He had my best friend as a steady girlfriend, and I had his best friend as a boyfriend. I myself was a beauty, and nothing to sneeze at when it came to fighting (although I must reiterate that my brother was my superior when it came to lancing).

Our small group, which numbered roughly fifty people, shouted and sang and talked as they sailed off to the old school. One of my friends was now the owner of a fairly large schooner, and gladly offered to take us to the school for free. Every single member of our troupe was able to fit on, and we would arrive land within a matter of days.

Here, I must pause--and soon after hearing my tale, you will see why.

There, I'm ready now. Please excuse me, but this part of my story has a lot of emotional trauma. Ah, I'm really not quite ready yet. Excuse me.

There. I'm really ready now--really I am. I told you, I warned you that I'm really a sensitive soul, and if you didn't believe me, you soon will. Okay, here we go. Don't worry, I always have difficulty telling this part of the story.

To be frank, we were attacked by a group of pirates midway in our journey. Now, these weren't the hearty pirates you sometimes read about, the type that you just can't help but love. And this wasn't Anji and his fellows, I can guarantee that as well--no, these were bloodthirsty pirates, vicious demons that attacked anything in their territory. To them, it didn't matter if it was an Imperial, a Highlander, someone from the City-State, the Grasslands, Harmonia… Everyone was fair game to them. You could almost say that it was a perverted system of equality.

Anyway, we were besieged by these monsters. Being a lancer, my brother was not about to be beaten so easily, and I supported his decision to fight back. A few other friends also chimed in, and soon the entire boat was filled with blood-hot youths ready to defend themselves against these rogues.

No, I'm all right. Just let me pause for a little while longer. We fought back, you see, we fought back, and killed so many. But… but… I was… no, excuse me… I'll only be a second.

Out of all fifty of my friends, only five of us survived the pirate attack. I got by with a scar or two, but I still lost a lot of blood. Three of my other friends managed to steer the boat to a nearby town, but… but they, well… They all died before they could recover their injuries. Exhausted and beaten, my brother and I dragged ourselves into a clinic, where a kind doctor took us in and mended my wounds to the best of his abilities.

Do you know why I said _my_ wounds? Do you? I think you do.

The doctor was unable to save Manille, and before I passed out from the anesthetic, Manille held my hand and smiled at me.

"It's going to be all right, sis," he whispered, his face pale and dripping with sweat. I shivered, feeling his strength leave him.

"Manille…" I whispered, the anesthetic slowly forcing my eyes closed. My brother smiled, and whispered his last.

"Don't worry, sis. It'll be all right. I love you, you know, so… don't worry." And with that, my eyes closed, and his hand grew limp, and I screamed to the heavens.

Years passed, and I screamed again.

Unlike Manille, I did not grow up with this man--I did not even _know_ him. I had only heard about him, from descriptions and rumors and gossipers. I knew what he looked like, but that was it.

Like most of my bounties, he had a debt, and I had to collect from him. Naturally, he claimed to not have the money, and naturally, his friends tried to make a proposal. "Join us," they said, "and we'll be able to pay off our debt." _Join_ you? What, me? I merely laughed, but they were serious.

Well, I joined them, mostly to humor them, but slowly--oh-so very slowly, so slow that not even I could notice it--I began to like their group. I finally had the first real discussion with my bounty several days after I joined. His name was Gremio, and he knew how to keep a promise, I'll tell you that. I found myself liking Gremio very much, and soon I wanted to do everything in my power to make sure that he was safe. I mean, he did owe me a debt, right? Right?

I never really got that money back, but when I heard the news, money was the last thing on my mind. In my mind, I screamed again--another one gone, another one I cared for, another one I… loved… Well, he was gone too, despite all my training and all my skills. Despite the lessons learned from watching Manille die, I couldn't…

Well, to make up for my errors, I really and truly fought for this cause, this Liberation Army. I actually caught up with the man who indirectly ended Gremio's life, and would have killed him gladly. Our "young master" had different plans for him, though, and I grudgingly allowed the bag of mucus to live.

Again, I eventually found myself striking up a conversation with an unlikely man. Turns out that this guy was Milich Oppenheimer, one of the Five Great Generals of the Scarlet Moon Empire (well, I _knew_ that much). What I didn't know was that Milich was actually being controlled by this thing called a "Black Rune", and it was this rune that made him go insane; it was the rune that made him…

Well, believe it or not, Milich and I became very good friends. Oh, don't go getting ideas--General Oppenheimer already had a special woman in his eyes, and I myself, well… Ah, I won't comment on it.

My journey with the "young master" was a confusing one at best. Enemies joined and friends betrayed, a son defeated his father, an entire town was avenged by a talking sword, an old man helped save a bunch of dragons, a would-be mother turned out to be an enemy (who in turn became an ally), and 106 people gathered under a single man.

To my great relief, Gremio was allowed a second chance at life. According to that woman Leknaat, because all 107 Stars had been gathered together, the one star that was lost would be revived again, making our number whole again. Naturally, there was great celebration and festivities, and when nobody was looking, I privately gave Gremio a hug.

"What was that for?" he asked, his shining eyes staring at me naively. I smiled.

"Two things," I stated. "One: Because of your sacrifice, I now officially call off that debt. And two: Well, I ah, I missed you." Gremio smiled innocently, and scratched his head.

"Yes, well…" he managed. "A lot of people have." I smirked, and took his elbow as I introduced him to all our new friends.

Oh, that's right! I never told you my name! It's Camille! Camille the she-devil.

(Although "somebody" says that I'm more of a she-_angel_ now…)

The End


	4. Huh? What? Shazam!: The Tale of Viki

****

Huh? What? Shazam!: The Tale of Viki

(Author's note: Personally, Viki is one of my _favorite_ characters. She's just too adorable!! It's too bad she was so poorly developed in the game(s)…)

"No, no, NO!!"

"Huh? What? Am I doing something wrong?" The instructor smacked his hand against his face, his impatience fading like water in a desert.

"To put it mildly, you are doing something wrong," he said with slow, seething deliberation. "And to put it bluntly, _YOU'RE SCREWING EVERYTHING UP!!!_"

"Gosh, I'm sorry," replied the Failure Student, her eyes staring off into space. The instructor growled so loudly that the windows could have broken, and he shouted out his final verdict on the girl's skills.

"I've had _enough_ of you!" he roared, and with that, the master Blink Mage teleported the Failure Student away, hoping to never see her again…

Five years passed, and the Failure Student was now seventeen years old.

Her mother started calling her Viki around the time she turned five years old; before that, well, her parents were too confused to give their girl a proper name. Oftentimes the parents would argue about her name, and then somebody would be teleported off somewhere, and they would be forced to walk back home. They would always kiss and make up after that (literally, if you know what I mean), and then a few days would pass, and the arguments and confusion would start up again. This went on for five years, and in that span of time, the little girl went without a name.

Eventually, they would decide on the perfect name, but even now the parents cannot agree as to whether or not it was a good choice. Viki (that was ultimately her name) would never really get involved with the debates; oftentimes, she would be lost in her own thoughts. Viki was an artist first and a Blink Mage second, and maybe she would learn how to fight one day. Of course, her interest in these subjects declined in importance: she concentrated on her art first and foremost, would playact a Blink Mage if asked (poor girl hardly ever studied), and tried her best to become a good fighter.

Viki's mother and father were infamous Blink Mages; her mother was the best in the group, but even that was saying a lot. Her accuracy was incredible, but oftentimes she hardly ever teleported the correct thing. Her father could teleport anything, but his accuracy was so horrible that it often made a client sick to the stomach.

Genetics was kinder to Viki, but not by much. She had no trouble teleporting things--really she didn't--and her accuracy wasn't _that_ bad, really it wasn't. But even old Crowley wasn't perfect (at least Viki didn't think so), and the young Blink Mage could certainly not boast any better…

Anyway, Viki had been kicked out of another school, and once again, she found herself whiling away her hours in a daydream, completely oblivious as to where she was. A seventeen-year-old could take better care of herself than a twelve-year-old could, but Viki was a hazard magnet no matter how old she got. This time around, she found herself in a very distant and very foreign country, one of which she had never heard of. The last time she had been kicked out of a school, she found herself at the Muse-Matilda border (or was it the Great Forest?).

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, having accidentally bumped into someone. The man smiled at her, laughing softly.

"Oh, that's okay," he said in a soothing voice. Viki smiled, but couldn't help but wonder where she was.

"Hey, is this Jaaru Saylim?" she asked. The man chuckled and shrugged.

"Sorry, pretty lady. You're in the township of Bethl Hamlet. Jaaru Saylim is on another continent."

"Oh, not again," sighed Viki, her feet kicking the floor. "I really tried hard this time, I really did! But at least the elephants didn't trample the gardens…" The man blinked, somewhat surprised at what the young girl had said.

"Uh… m-my name is Lawen," he muttered, sticking his hand out. Viki snapped out of her daydream, noticed the man's hand, and gasped.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Lowen, did you say?"

"No, ma'am, it's Lawen."

"Lowell?"

"Lawen, my dear." Lawen's patience was famous in Bethl Hamlet.

"Lo Wen? Hey, do you know the Lampdragon Bandits?"

"Uh, no, I don't," said the man slowly. Viki smiled.

"I'm Viki, a Blink Mage! You know, teleportation?"

"Ah," nodded Lawen, "so _that's_ how you came here so suddenly." Viki nodded her head, and asked the man's name again. He had to repeat it seven more times before she finally got it right.

"So Viki," said Lawen, staring at her forehead, "what brings you here?" The two of them were eating at a fairly fine restaurant; like all his previous escapades, Lawen started this one off with a fine dinner. Lawen, the most patient heartthrob in Bethl Hamlet, had a way with women, a way that would make even the toughest shells crack under his smile.

"Well," she said, stuffing rolls in her mouth, "I was thrown out of the mage school in Jaaru Saylim, and I think I got teleported here. Hey, are you gonna eat that?"

"What, this?" asked Lawen, pointing to a choice sirloin. He sighed and cut half of it up for his "friend". Viki smiled, but paid no attention to the meat.

"Huh?" she said, and suddenly gasped as she noticed the sirloin on her table. "Wow, are you giving this to me?!?"

"Yes, I am," smiled Lawen. Viki dug into the steak, but was already too full to finish the rest of it. Carefully she wiped her mouth, and thanked Lawen for the dinner. Suddenly, without any rhyme or reason, Viki left her chair and was never seen in Bethl Hamlet again.

"Oh my, I'm hungry!" exclaimed Viki the next day. She had slept outdoors and had recently digested the dinner she had eaten, but now her belly demanded food. Viki leaned up against a tree and put her hand to her mouth, but soon was lost in a vivid and colorful daydream…

__

Grrr…

"Oh my, I'm hungry!" exclaimed Viki. She snapped out of her daze, amazed to find herself in a forest, and immediately set out to find some food. She giggled when she saw a small rabbit hop across her way, and bent down to scoop the creature up. It did not run away, but it did wiggle in her arms a little.

"Oh, what a cute bunny!" smiled Viki, giggling openly. She sighed and petted the bunny a little more, and soon lost herself in another daydream.

__

Grr…

"Oh my, I'm hungry!" exclaimed Viki for the third time. By the time her stomach awoke her from her daydream, the bunny was gone and the afternoon sun was high in the sky. She squinted up at the blazing ball of fire, and continued her journey for food. She took a brief rest at a nearby river.

"Ah," she sighed, dipping her tired feet in the water. Her stomach would not need water for awhile, but liquid was a poor substance for food, and a fourth growling reminded her of this fact. Viki sighed, still very hungry, and leaned back a little to rest from her travels. Her mind slipped…

__

Grr…

"Oh my, I'm hungry!"

Viki walked into the town, unaware that the goblin was still following her. The little creature had met her in the forest, and would have robbed her blind if she had anything on her, but the only object of value that Viki had was her scepter. Fortunately, the goblin took a liking to the mage, and decided to follow her around until he could find better victims.

But as Viki walked into the tavern, she was still unaware of the creature's presence.

"May I have something to eat?" she asked the barkeep. The woman smiled at the young mage, and handed her a well-balanced meal of mashed potatoes, a biscuit, a thin slice of ham, some peas and carrots, and a small slice of chocolate cake (note to the reader: under no circumstances should Viki ever come within eating distance of chocolate. Trust me, it's not something you'd risk). Viki smiled and teleported some potch from her secret savings, and told the kind lady to keep whatever change there was.

"Hey!" shouted the goblin, and Viki nearly dropped her meal in surprise.

"Oh! What are you doing here, Mr. Goblin?" she asked. The little creature sighed.

"I told you, I'm following around! Now let me have some of that money so I can buy something to eat!"

"Oh, of course!" said Viki. She asked the barkeep for some goblin food, and the tiny creature got his favorite dish in return. He nearly cried at the taller one's kindness, but was curtly left behind as Viki absentmindedly carried her platter to an empty table.

"Hey, wait for me!" shouted the goblin, nimbly carrying his meal to the same table. Viki suddenly noticed the creature, although she claimed having no recollection of ever leaving it behind. The goblin sighed, and joined Viki as they ate their dinner together.

"Oh, umm, I forgot," said Viki suddenly, a spoonful of potatoes still on her plate. The goblin looked up at her, his face full of creamed quail. "My name is Viki, the Blink Mage. Who are you?"

"Jmm hah hee Pmkn," mumbled the goblin. He swallowed his food and spoke again. "Just call me Pilkin," he said, stretching his short hand out.

"Milk can?"

"Pilkin."

"Picon?"

"Pilkin!"

"Pilika? Say, do you know Jowy Blight? I think he's a king now…"

"Pilkin!!" shouted the goblin. Several patrons turned their heads, but nobody really paid any attention to the little creature until he REALLY started shouting.

"Pale can?"

"Pilkin, you twit!"

"Palcan Youtwit? What a funny name!" exclaimed Viki.

"PIL-KIN!!" roared the goblin. "Pilkin, Pilkin, Pilkin!!"

"OH, _Pilkin_!!" Viki smiled, and giggled to herself. "Why didn't you say so before?" The goblin growled, and nearly threw his plate of food at the poor girl. But before his greasy fingers could touch his plate, a powerful hand crushed his arm.

"Pilkin Redleaf," said a low, dead voice. Pilkin gulped and shakily looked up to see who had him in their grip. The man smiled, leering down at the goblin with perverse glee. He was a tall sucker, with a prickly black beard and long, prickly black hair. He was dressed like a woodsman, although the sword resting at his side identified him as a knight. His tunic was red with a large golden cross embroidered on it, and a layer of chain mail protected him from weak attacks.

"H-hello, Cedric," shivered the goblin. The mysterious man sneered, released his grip, and joined the duo.

"Hello there, little worm," said the knight in a dark, fluent voice. "My my, picking on young girls like a little bully! Tell me, who's your victim now?" Pilkin pointed a quaking finger at Viki, who had spaced out again.

"H-her? Wh-why sh-she's V-Viki, a B-blink mage." The knight smiled, and stood up.

"My dear lady," he addressed, bowing gracefully. Viki suddenly snapped out of her daydream, astonished to see a new guest at her table.

"Huh? Oh, who're you? I don't remember ever seeing you," she said. The knight smiled, and took her frail hand in his.

"My name is Sir Cedric Percival Muir-Statos of the Invincible Oak Hunters. It is a supreme honor to meet you, my lady Viki." Viki smiled, and tried her best at guessing his name.

"Uh, was that Cecil von Schmeer?"

"No, my dear: Sir Cedric Percival Muir-Statos."

"Simon Blake Dubois?"

"No, my lady: Sir Cedric Muir-Statos. CED-RIC MUIR-STAT-OS."

"Umm, Sellic?"

"Just call me Cedric, my lady," sighed the knight.

"Oh, right. Cedric. Gosh, that's a tough name to remember!"

"Yes," sighed the knight, resting his head on his hands. Viki smiled, finished her meal, and suddenly left the table.

"Hey, where're you going?" asked Pilkin. Cedric snarled and grasped the goblin's arm in his hand again.

"That does not concern you, you little worm!" he growled. "Just worry about me, and I assure you that you will have an easier day!!"

"Here we go again," murmured the barkeep.

Three days passed, and Viki last found herself relaxing in a warm pond. She was not alone, though: several new friends were there with her. Once she teleported away from the town, she found herself in the mountains, with a beaten path in front of her. Upon following this path, she came to a small cottage, where she was welcomed by a poor blind hermit and his daughters. She enjoyed her time in the cottage, and felt like she could be there forever.

"This is nice, isn't it?" sighed Viki. One of the blind man's daughters, a mature young woman named Prudence, smiled wisely.

"Yes. Father's pool has always been a favorite resting place for us. You are more than welcome to come here anytime, miss Viki." Viki smiled, splashing the water around gently.

"Oh, thank you, Petunia!" Prudence smiled patiently.

"My name is Prudence, Viki." Viki blushed.

"Sorry, I'm real sorry. I'll get it right next time, Pamela."

"Prudence."

"Priscilla?"

"No, Prudence."

"Uh… Yeah, Prudence." Viki smiled, submerged herself, and did not come back up for a very long time. Another girl, a quiet and gentle soul named Charity, was perhaps the first to notice her friend's absence.

"Viki? Where, where did she go, Constance?"

"How should I know?" blurted the third sister. "I'm not her keeper."

"Constance!" scolded Prudence. She and her younger sister dipped into the pool, only to find Viki floating near the bottom, completely oblivious that she was submerged. Charity gently pinched her friend's naked shoulder, and Viki snapped out of her thoughts with a jump.

"Blo! I auubba dauuba blubb…" She smiled, apologized, and surfaced again. Once she caught her breath, Viki smiled and almost forgot about the entire matter. "I said that I didn't know where I was," she said, and the girls could only wonder.

"You're a strange one, Viki," said Constance. Viki smiled, and splashed some water at the older girl. "Hey, cut that out! Or do you want some in return!?" Constance violently flung buckets of water at Viki's direction, but was only bombarded in return. Even Prudence and Charity joined in, and soon all three girls were soaking wet. Viki giggled, dove into the water to avoid getting any wetter (try making sense out of that), and was never seen in those parts again.

One month passed.

"Oh my!" exclaimed Viki suddenly, staring up at a large tower. "Where did all the chocobos go?" She pondered to herself, halfway aware that she was standing in the middle of a desert--and a large tower was right in front of her.

"Aaaaaah, I can't believe it!!" shouted a voice. Viki snapped out of her daze and noticed a strange little fellow pulling on the tower doors. Politely, she walked over to the man, and asked why he couldn't believe it.

"Huh? Who're you?" asked the man, and Viki introduced herself. "Yes, well, my name is Green, and I need to get inside this tower!"

"Ah," said Viki, her mouth hanging open in a smile. "Green is an easy name to remember!" The small man stopped pulling on the tower door and turned around, staring at the young girl in disbelief.

"…You're not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer, are you?" he asked.

"Knife? Where? What do you mean?" asked Viki.

"Never mind," sighed Green. "Just leave me alone! Oh, there _has_ to be a way in here, there _HAS_ to!"

"I can teleport you inside," offered Viki. Green paused and turned to face her again.

"Say what?" Viki smiled, and nodded her head. "Well, now! Why didn't you say so before?"

"Say what before?"

"That you can teleport!" exclaimed Green.

"Oh! Well, ah, I guess you never asked." Green paused again.

"Never mind," he sighed. "Just teleport me inside this tower, and I'll reward you with one single treasure that's in there!" Viki gasped at the idea of having another treasure added to her collection, and carefully recited the spell of teleportation.

"Shazam!" she shouted, but unfortunately, neither Viki nor Green were teleported inside the tower.

"…and that's when I swung my sword, and you know what happened after that?"

"(Giggle) No, Lawen, tell me what happened!"

"Well, the dragon was killed, the king rewarded me, and I've been a knight ever since."

"(Sigh) Oh, Lawen, you're so--"

"Huh?"

"Ah, at last we're--uh? WHAT THE?!?!?"

"Lady Viki!"

"Mr. Lawen!"

SLAP!!!

"Another woman?!?! You cheating, lying, spineless…"

"But Carol!! I don't even know her!!"

"That's not true, you treated me to dinner…"

"Ssh!"

"…worthless sleazebag!!"

"Hey, she was kinda cute…"

"Oh…"

One hour passed.

"I really hope you can forgive me," said Viki sadly, her eyes begging. Lawen sighed, smiling lightly.

"Think nothing of it, lady Viki. Carol, she… well, she was just not my type."

"This isn't the tower," grumbled Green. Viki turned to him and apologized.

"I'm sorry about that as well," she sighed. "I know I'm not the best Blink Mage out there, but I'm getting better!!" Lawen smiled, and forgave the poor girl.

"Yes, well, what are you doing here, anyway?" he asked?

"Oh, see, I was gonna teleport Mr. Green here inside this tower, but we accidentally got sent here instead. Weird, huh?"

"Yes," mumbled Lawen. "Weird…"

"Hey, I don't like this place," said Green suddenly. "Let's get outta here, and make sure you do things right this time!" Viki smiled, winked, and before Lawen could protest, she teleported herself, Green, and the heartthrob away…

"Once again, I'm sorry," sighed Viki, bowing her head as low as she could. Cedric sighed, tossing a bag of gold up in the air.

"Nobody's perfect," he mumbled. "I guess I can forgive you, but I don't know about Pilkin. Hey, worm, are you going to be all right, or shall I have to apply leeches to you?"

"I'm _fine,_" spat Pilkin, nursing his arm. Viki and crew had but recently landed on the duo, and although the weight of a young seventeen-year-old girl and a little man was hardly painful, the feel of a full-grown heartthrob landing on your shoulders is something that very few people, or goblins, would ever want to experience.

"I suppose he'll live," mumbled Cedric. "But I must inquire as to why you desire to enter this tower so badly."

"Because!" said Green. "An evil magician has stolen all my treasure, and he's locked it all up in that tower! I'm a magician myself, so I should be able to get in there, but the magic barrier surrounding the place is too strong!"

"Hm," hummed Cedric, "that does seem a bit troublesome. Well, I'm sure that Lady Viki will be able to assist you. As for Pilkin and myself, well, we'll be off on our way. Won't we, worm?"

"Just stop calling me that," growled the goblin. Cedric smiled, and winked at Viki.

"Huh? What? What happened?"

Together, Viki, Green, Cedric, Pilkin, Prudence, Constance, and Charity stared up at the tall tower. As can be expected, Viki accidentally teleported the knight and the goblin with her, and they managed to land right outside the cottage in the mountains. After much explanation and apologies, Viki tried her skills one more time, and was fairly successful--but she brought the three girls with her.

"No matter," sighed Cedric once the situation became clear. "Now that we're here, we might as well try the spell one more time. And Viki, my dear Lady, do try and get it right this time."

"Right," nodded Viki. Using every skill she had learned from her brief studies, Viki successfully teleported herself AND her new friends inside the tower. The spell worked a little too well, however: they found themselves right in front of the evil magician that Green had spoken of.

"Jumping Jehosaphat!" exclaimed Green. "It's you! It's the wizard! Hey Viki, your spell worked!!"

"Huh? What? Oh, hey, we made it inside…!"

"Never mind," sighed Green, turning his attention to the evil wizard. She merely giggled, and seductively swayed over to the smaller magician.

"Hey, handsome," she smiled, twirling his curly hair in her fingers, "did you come up all the way here to see me?"

"I, ah, NO, I didn't!" stuttered Green. The "evil magician" giggled innocently, and winked at Green. He blushed, but was able to block her "attack". "Enough of this!" he shouted. "N-now you give me back my treasure, or… or else!"

"Or else?" sang the wizard, her lips smiling playfully. "Oooh, that sounds fun. I'll take 'or else', please!" Green's face turned red, and he stamped his foot down on the floor.

"A-all right, Violet! Y-you asked for it now! G-go get her, men!!"

"It's not in my blood to harm a lady," said Cedric plainly. Pilkin agreed.

"Yeah, man. Solve your own problems!" Only Lawen, naturally, stepped forward, although he had no intention of defeating the exotic woman.

"Good day, my fair lady," sang Lawen smoothly. "Isn't it a warm day today? My my, it seems as if you've become very rich, and very important."

"Ah, I love a man who knows how to flatter a woman," sighed the wizard. Green's face turned… well, green, and he pushed aside the flirtatious man.

"H-hey, now! I said STOP her, not SWOON her! Jeez! Hey ladies, why don't you give her a try?"

"No way, man!" snorted Constance. "Do your own dirty work."

"She doesn't seem to be the evil type anyway," noted Prudence.

"I think she likes you!" giggled Charity. Green grunted, desperate enough to try one last person.

"Viki?"

"Huh? What? You need me for something?" Green sighed, and pointed to the wizard. Viki nodded her head, and approached the "evil" woman boldly.

"Hi there," smiled the woman. Viki smiled back.

"Oh, hello! My name's Viki. Who are you?"

"I'm Violet."

"Viola?"

"No, dear--Violet."

"Villa?"

"Violet, honey."

"Vera?"

"Violet, sweetie."

"Violent?" A pause.

"That's close enough," muttered the wizard. Viki giggled.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Violet."

"VIKI!!!!!!!"

"Huh? What? Am I doing something wrong, Mr. Green?" The short wizard bounced up and down, fuming mad.

"No, you're not doing anything wrong, sweetie," sand Violet, placing her arm around Viki's neck. "It's just that, well, little Mr. Green here has a thing for treasure, so I sort of, well, took some of his. You know, like a little game?"

"Oh," said Viki, nodding her head. "Well, can you give it back to him? He seems to want it back really badly." Violet smiled at Viki's naïveté, and promised herself to become friends with the younger girl.

"All right, I'll let you have your silly treasure," sang Violet. This calmed Green down considerably, so much so that he collapsed on the floor.

"R-really?" he whispered, and Violet nodded her head. "Truly?"

"Sure. But you really should have asked like my friend Viki here--HEY, where'd she go?" Violet paused, and everyone spread out to search for Viki. Not even the treasure was remembered; everyone searched the whole tower, but was unable to find their friend.

The whereabouts of Viki will always be a continuous mystery. Right now, she could be anywhere, doing anything, talking to anybody, and only those few unfortunate people would know where exactly she was. Nobody, especially not Viki, knows where she is now.

"You are a cute bunny," giggled Viki, giving the rabbit a kiss. She let the animal go, but it did not hop away. Strangely enough, the creature began to transform, until it grew to the size of a young man, roughly Viki's age!

"Huh? What? What happened?" asked the boy. Viki herself asked the same question. "Hey, I must have done it again," noted the boy. "I do that sometimes, you know."

"Do what?"

"Turn myself into an animal," replied the boy. "Thankfully, though, I was able to get out of it. I must've gotten kissed by a pretty girl who loves animals." Viki smiled, blushed slightly, and introduced herself.

"My name is Viki, and I'm a Blinking Mage. I guess I was the one who freed you."

"Did you say your name was Victoria?"

"Uh, Viki."

"Vancy, was it?"

"What? Oh, hi, my name is Viki!"

"Vira… what a beautiful name…"

"Thanks!" smiled Viki. "And who are you?"

"Miki. I'm a Beast mage."

"Rickey?"

"Uh, it's Miki."

"Nickey?"

"Huh? Oh, hey, I'm Miki."

"Mikey, right? Wow, that's such a nice name!"

"Huh?"

"Huh?" The two young mages smiled at each other, paused, and walked through the forest, hand in hand, heart in heart, utterly lost in the world of dreams.

Huh? What? Hey, is this the end? Really? Wow!

Shazam!


	5. My Specialty is Saying the Town's Name: ...

****

My Specialty is Saying the Town's Name: The Tale of Qlon

It was a cold spring morning, and the mail would not come for several more hours. Still, Qlon awaited the fateful letter carrier, hoping that today would be the day. Patiently, he sat on his swinging bench, kicking his feet and humming a tune he had just made up. His patience would pay off--soon, it would come. Soon…

He sighed, shaking in the cold, and bounced off of the swinging bench. He hummed his way inside the house, and made a beeline to the kitchen. With his parents away, Qlon was forced to take care of himself for a little while. He knew how to cook (somewhat), but more importantly, he knew how to make a cup of hot chocolate.

Obviously, that was not his real name. When he was a little bit younger, Qlon had visited a very special temple with his parents. He loved the temple's name so much, he started calling himself that. Soon, not even his friends remembered his real name--Jesse von Stuart von Eigel--just Qlon. Qlon loved his new name, naturally, and he loved expressing it wherever he went. His specialty was saying new and fun names.

The hot chocolate in a cup, Qlon sat on a stool in his room, rereading his old comic books and romance novels. He was fascinated by stories of knights in shining armor, and of dragons and fair maidens and powerful wizards. Half of the time, he fantasized about this world, and desired nothing more than to be a knight himself. True, he was young, but after reading how some of the most famous knights often started out at early ages, his hopes flared up.

Well, the day waned on, and morning gave way to afternoon. Qlon finished his drink and his stories, and ventured outside once more to wait for the mail. He had been saving his allowance for weeks, just so he could buy a new book. He was still a little young to venture into the market by himself (he turned 9 but three months ago), but he was allowed to buy things through the mail.

His patience paid off. After many faithful minutes, the postman finally arrived with a small handful of letters, and a brand new novel for Qlon. The young boy squealed with delight as he saw his friend, and gave the old man a hug as he handed Qlon the book. He thanked him an endless amount of times, and just like that, he ran off to his room to read the novel. Instantly, he was drawn once again into the world of knights and kings and myth, and so desperately wished to live out that life.

Once upon a time, Qlon got separated from his parents while wandering around the streets of Antei. Antei was a sprawling suburb with a vast population and an impressive array of merchandise. Qlon had been occupied with several shelves of historical and fantastical novels while he was there, but was far too enraptured to notice his parent's leave. He continued reading, even when night fell.

Qlon managed to find himself at the Antei inn. A famous dancer named Mina paid his bill, on the condition that Qlon would dance with her. Despite being so young, Qlon was a great dancer, and gave the crowds an amusing little jig to clap to.

When asked about his family, Qlon could not say where they were. The dancer that had paid for the young boy's bill grew rather upset at this revelation, and offered to take care of Qlon until his parents came back. Qlon eagerly accepted the offer, and soon began calling Mina his "damsel in distress".

One day, the great imperial general Milich Oppenheimer came through the area. He was a strange cad with an "interesting" sense of fashion and an equally bizarre taste for names. Qlon did not like the idea of having his precious Antei being renamed, but since Milich had occupied the area, he had little choice in the matter. Besides, it wasn't all that bad--they had "the Flower General" for protection, and a competent guardian he was, and the name of the town wasn't _that_ bad, really.

While he lived in Bier Blanche (or Antei), Qlon whiled his days away searching for his parents, reading his books, and learning how to dance from Mina. He loved bugging "Albert" to death, and he learned a great deal about the sea from Kimberly. From Chapman he learned how to be a good salesman, and from Jeane he learned the ways of the Rune master (he especially loved playing with the smaller suits of armor that Chapman would have). But he still missed calling the town by its proper name, and maybe he missed his parents as well.

News of the Liberation Army spread fast. Qlon even got to talk to the leader of the army! He was overjoyed when he saw him, and once again thoughts of romance and adventure sailed through his young mind. But he was still searching for her parents, and he really would not leave Bier Blanche until he could call it Antei once again.

He got his wish a few days later. Milich had been defeated, and the towns regained their proper names. Qlon spent half of that day shouting out "Antei, Antei, that feels so good!", and the other half waiting for his parents or the leader of the Liberation Army. Half of his wish was granted, and Qlon was allowed to tag along with said leader--just like his dreams!

A few more weeks passed. Qlon busied himself memorizing the names of everyone that resided in Toran Castle. So far, he knew Gen, and then there was Tai Ho and his brother Yam Koo, and Kimberly of course. In the basement there resided the Blink Mage Viki, the sage Hellion, the inventor Kamandol, Krin the thief, Juppo the trickster, and old Crowley the famous wizard.

The basement and the roof were the easiest to remember, since so few people hung around those areas. The three ninjas were on the roof, along with Pesmerga and Clive, and of course there was Rubi. Qlon strained a little harder to remember everyone else: Kreutz, FuSuLu, Kanak, Sydonia, Eikei, Marco… Well, not even he could remember _everyone_, so he often made treks up to the third floor, where the Tablets of Promise were. Inscribed on these tablets were the names of everyone who had joined, and Qlon made it a mission of his to memorize them all.

After the raid on Moravia Castle, Qlon grew very close to some new recruits that had joined the army. One of them was the half-crazed old knight named Maximilian, the other his earthy squire Sancho. Although the unlikely duo was a few cards short of a full deck, they were both surprisingly competent warriors (although Max was more of a fighter, while Sancho was his aide in times of trouble). More importantly, though, they were both under an honorable code of knighthood.

Qlon hung around Max and Sancho more than anyone else in the group. Oftentimes, he would ignore his books and would sit back with wide eyes as Max wove stories about his younger days as a knight. Sancho would clarify some of the more unbelievable parts, though, so sometimes the fancy stories that were being told had to be edited.

After the fall of the Scarlet Moon Empire, Qlon said good-bye to his friends and gave Max and Sancho a big hug. He elected to stay behind as a guard for Toran Castle, and in the months to come, his parents would join him. He still kept busy reading his comics, but more often than not, he would reminisce on his own adventures. One day, many years from then, he would grow up to become the legendary Templar Qlon, the very same one that saved an entire country from a terrifying magician, the very same spoken of in myths, the very same that is still whispered about in legends.

The End


	6. It's Not Easy Being a Lady: The Tale of...

****

It's Not Easy Being a Lady: The Tale of Esmeralda

"She's just ever so slightly queer."

"What's that?"

"Nothing, dear," replied Sophie. "Go back to your drawing."

"I am almost certain that I heard you say something."

"No, dear," said Sophie again. "Anna and I were just discussing the weather. Nothing important. Don't pay it any mind." Esmeralda paused, tucked her lip in her mouth a little, and returned to the drawing room. It was pink and white and lacy and a little cool for an early spring morning. The second she was in the room, she picked up a crude glass cup from the table and pressed it against the wall. Her ear found the bottom of the cup, and soon she was once again the Empress of Eavesdropping.

"Poor girl," came the muffled voice of Sophie. "But she really is a little strange."

"I don't think she's all that peculiar," replied Anna. "Although I must admit, it is rather queer that a fine lady such as her would ever join up with a ragged band of miscreants."

"I can only assume you mean that loathsome Liberation Army," sniffled Sophie. Anna affirmed the fact, and there was much clicking of tongues. _Of all the nerve!_ sneered Esmeralda to herself. _That nest of vipers! Oh, tosh, they're speaking again…_

"She isn't quite as bad as that wretched Helen," said Sophie.

"Quite, quite…" came a reply. "She did help us out while we were being courted. I must profess, my dear friend, that were it not for her intervention, I would be an old maid by now!"

"As would I, friend," replied Sophie. "Every rose must have a weed, though."

That loathsome, back-stabbing, wretched old hag! A weed indeed! Humph, I shan't subject myself to this nonsense! With a harrumph, Esmeralda stormed back into the room where her friends were, an enraged look to her face. She was actually angrier than she let on, but her two friends would get the message she was conveying.

"My dear friend!" exclaimed Anna, suddenly spying Esmeralda enter the room. "Why, have you finished your drawing?"

"Drawing indeed!" exclaimed Esmeralda. "I'll have you know that I overheard everything you were saying about me, especially the part about the weeds!"

"My word!" gasped Sophie, obviously shocked that her friend would stoop to the level of an eavesdropper. "Esmeralda, my dear, have you gone mad? We said nothing of the sort!"

"And now you lie!" she retorted. Both Sophie and Anna paused, gaping somewhat, and could not come up with any excuses.

"I apologize," said Sophie sadly. "I merely meant to convey that not all of us are perfect, not even you."

"You certainly conveyed it bitterly!" exclaimed Esmeralda with a harrumph. She clicked her own tongue and stormed out of the room, her dress scraping against the floor. Anna sighed, shaking her head.

"I don't believe we shall ever see her again," she said. "I think she's gone for good this time." Sophie nodded her head slowly, and the two women quietly ended their discussion.

"I should like to leave," said Esmeralda to the guard. He stood straight and tall, lifted his spear, and opened the gate for her. She did not thank him as she marched out of the gate and past the rose gardens; it was a gorgeous day outside, but Esmeralda was far too infuriated to pay attention to the white lilies and red roses that decorated her friend's estate. She continued to scurry along, called a cabby, and never set foot in that horrid place again.

"Driver, stop right here." The buggy came to a slow halt, the horse whinnying. Esmeralda paid her driver and was helped out of the cab, and stared in wonder at the forest. She had never been in this part of the country before, and she would have liked to have had an escort or perhaps some guards, but it was a peaceful day and quite refreshing for a spring afternoon, so she figured that she would be quite well on her own.

The forest was rather quiet and very much a pleasure to walk through. Esmeralda met with no trouble, although she did have to step over a few logs, and she had to walk an unfair distance due to a rather muddy creek. But the air was clean, and the mild exercise did her well. No carriages went to Jowsten, she knew, so she would be forced to walk the distance herself--what a pity!

"Grah!!" Suddenly, a shrieking pierced the air--Esmeralda screamed for a brief period--and a figure leaped out from the trees. "Gimme all your money!" it demanded.

"Why you vicious brute!" scorned the woman. "How dare you have the nerve to attack me?" More angry than frightened, she beat the figure with her purse, hoping that the heavy gold coins stored within would knock the bandit out.

"Ouch, ouch! Take it easy on me, my lady! It's just old Varkas!" Esmeralda ceased her assault for the time, and gasped as she recognized the thief to be none other than Varkas!

"Oh, goodness!" she said. "I did not expect to see you here!" Varkas frowned, rubbing the spot where he had been hit the most. In her wild days as an ally to the Liberation Army, Esmeralda had had the displeasure of knowing Varkas. To be sure, the man was an uncouth bandit with less-than-stellar manners, and he looked something like a mongrel or perhaps a bull. But he was a good man, reasonably enough, and he certainly meant no harm.

"Traveling alone, my lady?" asked Varkas. Esmeralda nodded her head.

"Yes, I am. I tired of the Toran Republic, so I have decided to set out on a journey to the city-state of Jowsten. I have a friend who lives in Highland, and perhaps he shall take me in when he hears of my plight."

"Ah," said Varkas nodding his head. "Well, be careful from now on, my lady. I'm just a border guard, but there are hundreds of other bandits out there that aren't so nice." He added with a smirk, "Some are almost as dangerous as I." Esmeralda only scoffed, knowing full well that the bandit's ego was bigger than her summer house.

"Yes, I shall take care. Oh, Varkas, I really hate to ask such a vulgar man, but will you be kind enough to escort me to Jowsten? This forest is awfully unsuited for me, and I do hate getting my clothes soiled."

"Vulgar?" coughed Varkas. Esmeralda held her nose up, and closed her eyes.

"Yes, vulgar. You are a bandit, a thief, a vagabond, and I would rather not associate myself with the likes of you. But this forest dissatisfies me, so I can swallow my pride for a while if I need to." Varkas half-smiled, crossing his arms doubtfully.

"I don't know what to make of you, my lady," he sighed. "But if you pay me well…"

"Oh, brute!" exclaimed the woman, slapping his shoulder. "All you care about is money! Well, fine, if you must be so recalcitrant, then I suppose I have no choice." Digging into her purse, Esmeralda produced several coins, and gave them all to Varkas. "Here, fifty potch. Now please be ever so kind as to guide me to the city-state." Varkas grumbled, eyeing the minimal amount of money with distaste, and wordlessly "allowed" Esmeralda to accompany him.

"Here, here's the city-state territory. Beyond there is Highland, but I'm not going to accompany you any further."

"Ah, there will be no need for that," sighed Esmeralda, eyeing the territory before her. "I shall know how to arrive at my destination. I suppose I should thank you, but since I am in a great hurry to be out of Toran, then I must simply say good-bye and farewell." And without wasting another second, Esmeralda left Varkas to himself, and continued on until she spotted another cabby trotting along the path.

"Strange woman," said Varkas, scratching his head.

Once in Radat, Esmeralda sighed with contentment. She had just recently stationed herself in the local inn, and would be staying for an unknown amount of time. Her friend, a quaint gentleman named Simone, would be arriving any moment now.

She had just finished her second glass of white wine when a handsome face entered the bar. Esmeralda smiled, and sensing that this man had a great aura of respect hanging over him, she stood and allowed him to sit across from her.

"My lady," said the man, kissing her gloved hand, "how are you this afternoon?"

"Terrible, all the same," came the reply. "I cannot express my true feelings about my recent journey, since it would be far too boorish and tiresome."

"I see," said the man softly. He leaned forward, folding his hands as he spoke. "A beautiful young lady such as yourself should not encounter trouble on her journeys."

"My dear fellow," smiled Esmeralda, fanning herself lightly, "I am not one who is accustomed to flirting with strangers."

"Then we must become acquainted," smiled the man. "Permit me to introduce myself as Shu, one of the chief leaders of this town and a large part of the trade organization."

"Milord Shu, is it?" said Esmeralda. "Well, I see that you do have some importance to you, as I suspected. I am Lady Esmeralda, and if Milord Shu will be so kind as to pay for my next drink, I will allow him to court me."

"You drive a tempting bargain," said Shu smoothly, his face smiling. "And this is one of my favorite haunts. But please, milady, I would first like to hear why you have come to such an unworthy place." Esmeralda smiled, fanned herself a little more, and blushed slightly. _He certainly knows how to address a lady,_ she thought.

"Well," she began, "if you must know, I have come here to take up residence with a dear friend of mine. I come from the Toran Republic, milord, and since my friends there think too lowly of me, I have since left those borders. This new land may suit me well if I find it to my liking." Shu nodded his head, and asked a waitress for a glass of champagne.

"I'm not fond of the stuff myself," sniffed the lady, "but if milord is paying, the least I can do is be grateful. I thank you."

"No, I must thank you for allowing me the pleasure of your company," replied Shu with a smile. Esmeralda smiled and let out a polite chuckle, and made it a personal note to allow herself to be courted by this man.

"Oh, posh," sighed Esmeralda, fanning herself lightly, "where _can_ he be?" It had only been the previous day since she sent out a letter to her friend, and he should have sent someone to escort her to his house by now--or at least have the good manners to arrive himself! Esmeralda sighed, growing quite tired of the drab décor that made up her hotel room. It was the fanciest (and therefore most expensive) room available, and yet Esmeralda could not help but sneer.

"Well I do hope he comes," she sighed to herself. She sat down on her bed, wishing she had a book or an easel or something to pass the time. She sighed again, hoped that the door was shut and locked, and lied down on her bed. Irritatingly enough, there came a rapping on the door the very minute she had begun to recline.

"Oh, bother!" she exclaimed, pounding her bed lightly. She sighed, stood up, and straightened herself out before she answered the knock. "Yes?" she said. A highly-decorated man stood on the opposite end of the door, his arm crossed over his chest in a formal salute.

"My lady Esmeralda! I have been informed by Lord Simone to escort you to his estate!"

"And a great deal of time it took you to get here!" she exclaimed. The escort's face grew crestfallen.

"I deeply apologize for the unnecessary delay, my lady!" he said. "But if you allow me to tell you my reason for being so late--that is, as we ride to Lord Simone's estate--then maybe you will understand my tardiness." Esmeralda sighed and shook her head. She was certainly not in the mood to listen to excuses, no matter how truthful they were.

"No, I shall forgive you. Come now, you can make up for your delay by carrying my bags." With that, she strolled past the escort, carrying only a frilly pink parasol.

"My dear lady," addressed the escort, "I know you did not ask for it, but I feel as if I must tell you my reason for delay."

"No, I would really not like to hear it," replied Esmeralda with a wave. The carriage she was riding in smelled of fresh cedar and oak, and the horse's hooves made a beautiful clattering sound whenever they stepped over pavement or cobblestone. Only she, her escort, and the driver were there, and the endless plains before them.

"I think you should," said the man darkly. He added, "I normally obey the request of a lady, especially one whom I am in debt to, but this time I must relinquish my honor and inform you." Esmeralda sighed, and reclined slightly in the carriage. _Whatever he has to say,_ she reasoned to herself, _I shall just have to ignore it._

"Then if it is so important, then you may tell me," she said. The escort thanked her, and cleared his throat.

"My lady, do you recall a man named Prince Luca Blight?"

"Yes, I do," sniffed the lady. "A rather disagreeable fellow. I like his sister very much, though."

"There are few that do not. But she is not important in this topic, my lady." The escort cleared his throat again, and whispered in a low voice. "My lady, many of the roads have been blocked off. Imperial soldiers and state troopers have been posted at every border from Banner to Harmonia. As you can therefore deduct, I have ran into many of these border guards, and although I was able to make it through, this wasted time has thus caused my delay."

"Do continue," said Esmeralda, halfway paying attention.

"As you wish, my lady," said the escort. "Well, all of this fuss has been over the eruption of a third seat of power in the land, calling themselves the Bright Shield Army. Patrol guards have obviously been instructed to cut off all ties to different countries, in hopes of curtailing this Army's actions, and so far the two have since been at ods with each other."

"Another rebellion," sighed Esmeralda. She chuckled politely, recalling her experiences with a very similar army. "Well, against the tyranny of Highland, and don't take this the wrong way, but I do hope they are victorious."

"There are many that agree with you, my lady," said the escort darkly. A long pause ensued. The carriage came to a steady halt, and the driver announced that they had arrived at Lord Simone's house.

"Well," said Esmeralda, letting the escort help her out of the buggy, "it seems as if we have arrived. And sir? I really must thank you for informing me about this… what was it? Shield Army?"

"Yes, madam. And you are most welcome." The escort bowed, and returned to his quarters; Esmeralda herself made a beeline to the front door.

"Oh, my dear Esmeralda!" Simone put his arms around her torso gently, giving her a friendly peck on each cheek. "Oh, it has simply been eons since I have last seen you! And dare I say it, but you have grown at least three times as lovely since!"

"And you seem much healthier _and_ wealthier since our last meeting, my lord," she replied. Simone extended his elbow, and Esmeralda linked her up with his as they strolled into the large manor. Two sets of staircases met them, with a fine velvet rug beneath and a crystal chandelier above. The room smelled like lilies and fresh tulips, and the sound of music could softly be heard.

"A concert I was pulled away from," pointed Simone sadly. "But all the more worth it to see you, dear Esmeralda."

"You are a cad," she smiled, blushing softly. "Do take me to hear the rest of it. Do, please Simone, do take me to hear the rest of it!"

"But of course, my lady," smiled Simone. He opened a door for her, and soon they were in the backyard garden, with rows of flowers surrounding them and a well-sized orchestra before them. Several of Simone's other friends were gathered around, chatting and dining on finger food as they enjoyed the day. Esmeralda smiled, and was instantly taken to a seat.

"My dear Esmeralda, it pains me to hear about Sophie and Anna," sighed Simone. The lady made no reply as she stirred her drink around. "But on the other hand, it also does not surprise me. The two of them have been known to gossip about anything, and I have always feared that their attention would be drawn towards you." Again, she made no reply.

It was nighttime, and the orchestra had left several hours ago, along with the guests. Simone was practically alone now, except for his servants and perhaps a few more guests that chose to stay the night. He had offered to dine with Esmeralda, and since she was not the kind of lady that refused a dinner with a friend, she accepted his proposal.

"Lord Simone," she said after a long pause, "do not think me childish, but while I was in Radat, I saw an item that I thought would suit you well. It was inexpensive, yes, but the quality of the work far outweighed the, ah, face value." Simone smiled.

"You mean you bought me a gift?" he said. "Dear Esmeralda, you did not have to go to such great lengths!"

"But I have not seen you in ages!" she replied. "And besides, I truly did think that you would like it. It practically had your name engraved in it!"

"Then I should very much like to have it," replied Simone with a smile. "It simply wouldn't do to hear about this present and refuse it now, would it?"

"Certainly not," replied Esmeralda with a smile, and without a moment's hesitation, she reached into her purse and gently produces a small box wrapped in green paper. Simone took the box in his hand, delicately removed the paper, and grinned as he beheld a glass rose brooch.

"Oh, my dear," he sighed, pinning it on his collar, "it is magnificent! I don't believe I will ever be able to repay this act of kindness!"

"There is no need, my lord Simone," she replied. "I just hope that you like it."

"Like it?" he whispered, the smile still on his face. "Why, my dear Esmeralda, I adore it!"

"Truly?" she said, a giggle in her tone. Simone nodded, and she allowed him to kiss her hand. "But I just want you to do one favor for me, dear friend."

"Name it, my lady."

"I don't want you to lose that like you've lost so many other things," replied Esmeralda. Simone sniffled, and patted her hand.

"My dear friend," he sang, "I would sooner die than lose this rose brooch."

"Would you now?" smiled Esmeralda. The two of them shared a polite laughter, and continued their dinner.

Esmeralda was crying the next day. She was not heartbroken; she had both Shu and Simone to keep her company now, and she was lovely enough that she could find any gentleman anywhere. And she was not abnormally happy either, although she had worn a happy smile during the previous night. Disappointment was not in her mind; things were going perfectly for her, and they could only get better. And she was not terror-stricken or enraged either, for she had nothing to fear in Simone's house, nor did she have any reason to be mad.

Esmeralda was crying because she had pricked her finger with a needle while sewing, and since she could not bear to cross over into vulgarity by cursing, she was forced to bite her lip, suck on her finger, and cry over her pain.

__

Sometimes, she thought to herself, _it is not easy being a lady._

****

The End


	7. Why Armor?: The Tale of Chapman

****

Why Armor?: The Tale of Chapman

Another day, another potch… I lazily polished the breastplate, bored stiff and very much restless. This plate of armor in my hand cannot possibly get any shinier, but everything else is sparkling clean, and this is my last piece of armor that I have. I let out a gust of air as I cleaned the suit, wishing that it wasn't lunchtime. Halfway into the day and I'm already finished with everything! I sigh again, hoping against hope for a customer.

"Yo, Chapman!" I eagerly look up from the breastplate in hopes of a consumer, but all I see is that good-for-nothing bum, Rikimaru. I grunt to myself and continue to clean the shining suit. Rikimaru walked up to the counter, and to my surprise, he laid down a bag full of coins. I eyed the sack hungrily as he spoke.

"_You_ know what I want," he said with a smile. I nodded my head and put the suit of armor back on the rack. I then left the front desk to rummage through my inventory, and came across an expensive gauntlet that he had had his eyes on for some time. I returned, gauntlet in hand (no pun intended), and told him the price.

"Eight-thousand potch," I said. "Or if you're using Scarlet Moon currency, that'd be about 7550 bits you owe me." Rikimaru kept his grin as he fished for coins, and pulled out a right nice handful of thousand-potch coins. I wordlessly handed him the Diamond Gauntlet he had wanted, and the bum walked out of my shop whistling and tossing his bag of coins in the air.

Twelve oh-five and nothing to do for the rest of the day. My armory doesn't close until ten at night, so I decided to search around for the lunch sack I had packed that morning. As always, when I am searching for lunch, I was interrupted by another customer. I grunted and wished that they would interrupt me more when I _wasn't_ trying to get things done, and put on my best smile. I don't smile a whole lot.

"Sir," said my customer--holy cow, she was hot! "Sir," she said, leaning over slightly. I tried not to "look" and kept my gaze on her nose. Crap, even that was beautiful.

"What's up, Mina?" I asked. She smiled and gave me a wink. _Mina, please don't do that. I'm trying to work here!_

"I need a new ribbon," she said, digging into her dress for her purse. I sighed inwardly and was glad for a distraction, but unfortunately my supply of ribbons were very close at hand, and I soon found myself looking at the gorgeous dancer again. _Steady, old chum. There are hundreds of other men out there that want her just as badly. Just stick to your job._

"Forty-four hundred bits," I said, knowing full well that that would be the currency that Mina would use. She handed me the correct change and put the ribbon in her hair. "It suits you," I noted. She smiled and thanked me, and left as quickly as she came in. Sighing, I returned to my lunch, only to be interrupted by another customer…

Grunting with relief, I locked the door and made sure that all windows were boarded up. Armor has gotten more expensive in these past few days, and I couldn't afford to be plagued by burglars. To make sure my stock wouldn't be disturbed, I hung the "Closed" sign on the door, and feeling confident that I had done a fine day's work, I left for home. People should come to Antei more often. It's beautiful at night. Too bad I'm single and in my late forties. I could really use the company of a female (that Kimberly's not my type).

I made my way to the tavern first. As usual, Mina was there and the crowd was large. Mina worked the same number of hours that I did, although not quite the same times. I ignored the cheering drunks and her shapely body… erm, I mean, her smile. I ignored it all and asked for a beer, and after I finished it I left for home.

I awoke with the sun the next day, and went through all of my morning rituals. They had evolved into a monotonous procedure over the years: bathroom, shower, hair, teeth, paper, breakfast, teeth again, work. Every day for the past forty years, that was my routine: bathroom, shower, hair, teeth, paper, breakfast, teeth again, work. Don't ask me why I never changed my routine. I'm usually not a good person to interview. I just know about armor. Ask me anything about armor.

Well, somebody did ask me something about armor today. It was somebody I had not seen in years, an antisocial hunter/mercenary named Larkenwol. Old Larkenwol--well, he was really about ten years my junior, but he didn't look it--old Larkenwol came in one day, to my surprise, and asked for a new cloak. I hadn't seen him in five years and he strolls in asking for armor. Same old Larkenwol.

"Thirty-six hundred potch, or thirty-five hundred bits," I said. "Take your pick." Larkenwol wordlessly laid a handful of potch on my counter, and the cloak was soon in his possession.

"Chapman," he said suddenly. I looked up from counting the potch. Larkenwol rarely spoke, and when he did, he was always concise and to the point.

"Yeah?"

"A question." I frowned and counted out the rest of the money. Thirty-six, on the dot.

"Go ahead."

"Why armor?" I paused for a moment, trying to decipher what he meant.

"What do you mean?"

"Why armor?" he asked again. I swallowed and rubbed my smooth chin.

"You wanna know why I went into this business?" I asked. He nodded his head, and I let out a gusty sigh. "Why?"

"Curious," came the reply. I shrugged, and seeing as there would not be any more customers for awhile, I decided to tell him my story.

One day, when I was wearing a younger man's clothes, I lived the life of a renowned and venerable actor. I was known as one of the best performers in all of the Empire--maybe even in all the world. When I took the stage, I held nothing back: from riotous humor to heart-wrenching drama, I chewed through the script and gave the audience their money's worth and so much more.

Now you might ask yourself why I gave it all up for such an occupation as this. I'll tell you one thing: it wasn't easy. I'm a proud man, and a stubborn one too, but you gotta admit that most of these qualities come from overacting too much. I'll tell you why I chose this business, and as you might expect, it has something to do with losing a loved one.

After the Succession War ended, Barbarossa sent out a call for all able-bodied men to join the new army. Out of all the countries involved, Gregmister had been hit hardest, and their supply of soldiers was almost nonexistent. Armories around the globe were put to work, and countless orders flooded their gates. Soldiers needed armor, and soon being in the protection business was very profitable.

I was still in the theater when I got word that my kid brother would be joining the army. Yeah, you already know where this is going, right? Wrong. Well, he did end up joining, and I still remained in the theater--I mean, what little I knew about armor had been learned on the stage. Anyway, Barbarossa had his army, and his army had their armor, so everything was peachy keen, right?

Well, I learned that there was a drastic shortage of armor in the Antei region. None of my business, right? Well, my kid brother had been posted in Lorimar, which is right around that area. Lorimar got attacked by a group of outlaws, and although the soldiers were well-trained and very efficient, they were massacred. I blamed the rogues at first, but my blame soon turned to the Scarlet Moon Empire: one, for putting that regiment there in the first place, and two, for putting them there without proper equipment.

I left the theater after hearing about my brother's death, and knowing that they needed someone experienced in business in Antei, I traveled there (I used to apprentice under a trader in my youth). Needless to say, I got the job as resident armory salesman, and I've been in this same stinking job ever since. Well, at least that old fool Barbarossa won't run out of armor again, and maybe someone else's life will be saved because of my meager contributions.

"That's why."

"Oh." Larkenwol stared back at me emptily, and just like that, he left my business. I never saw him again, and even to this day, I wondered why he asked me such a question. Oh, well, no need to brood on things gone by. Shrugging, I turned around searching for some clean rags to polish a few dirty shields, when I should be interrupted by yet another customer. He was a strapping young lad, strong in body and in heart, and his eyes looked so trustworthy and kind and, well, none of my business, I wonder what he wants? I groaned inwardly as he approached, wishing that there was some way I could get out of this hole--or better yet, wishing that there was some way I could get back at Barbarossa.

By the Creator, how I miss the theater.

****

The End


	8. In the Dell: The Tale of Blackman

****

In the Dell: The Tale of Blackman

It wouldn't rain in Kalekka if God had walked over and squeezed the water out of the clouds.

Kirov was far away and I bet they didn't have the seeds I was looking for either. Not that it'd matter anyway--nothing's ever grown on this ground since before the invasion. Now those were the days. I recall when I held an entire plantation under my thumb, my green thumb, and how even I lost count of the crops I'd harvest. There'd be kids running around screaming, and because I usually had a surplus, I'd give some of my food to them and spoil their dinner.

Worthless don't quite say enough when you consider this place. I remember those prosperous days like they was yesterday--well, they almost were. I remember how I could almost look at the ground and there'd be something coming up out of it, or how much game there was for the hunters to find, and how beautiful and strong everyone was. Don't ask me why it had to change--I'm just a simple old farmer who hardly understands anything.

The tool I use to farm is now my only possession. My home is wrecked beyond repair, and my village is a ghost town. Ain't nobody living here except for me, that crazy old geezer, and the renowned strategist who's just moping around all day doing nothing. Leon, he says is his name, and I wonder why a Silverberg is wasting his life in the ruins of this town. Maybe, like me, he has nowhere else to go, or maybe he just loves this place too much to abandon it.

Three. Three plants. Three measly, weak, starving plants are all that's left of my life's work. Just three. Not one more, not one less. Even the starving old man knows that. Just three. I remember when there were rows and rows of plants, easily a hundred times more than what I had already, and they were so wonderful and they gave people life, and then it had to end.

The invasion. Fire. Smoke. Blood, murder, screaming, I think I heard laughter. Somebody killed someone I knew, someone I knew killed somebody, and rows and rows of plants were burned to the ground. Soil ruined. Houses smashed in. A Silverberg was vomiting on the burnt ground, sick of war and death and blood and maybe even sick of life. It wasn't Leon, although he was there too.

And now Leon is staying behind. Maybe he's waiting for the other Silverberg to come back, grovel, apologize, beg to be killed, or maybe just to beg. Perhaps he'll gloat. Maybe they'll embrace each other and make up and everything will be okay and I'll have to get back to reality, because that ain't working out. I know men too much to live in a fantasy world.

I survived the attack. A _lot_ of people did, believe it or not, but nobody wants to live here anymore. If all of the survivors had banded together and given their town another chance, then maybe--_just maybe_, this little hamlet would be thriving again, and I'd have much more plants to take care of. But that ain't happening: this place is the past, and as we all know (myself included), nobody wants to go back to their past again. Anybody that says otherwise is a fool or a liar.

I'm a fool. But I'm a fool with hope, a hope that my plants will one day thrive again, and maybe the fields will be green instead of black, and maybe the houses will be shining instead of dull, and maybe the Silverbergs will live in peace again, and maybe I will be able to sleep at night.

But that ain't happening. I'm a fool to believe otherwise, so that's why I'm staying here with my plants. I'm a fool, but I have never lied once in my life. That I can be proud of, at least. You don't find too many people that aren't liars. Even good people lie.

"Blackman." I looked up from my plants to see Leon Silverburg standing there. The cold, dead wind of this abandoned town tears at his clothes and his hair, and the look on his face is as empty as the houses here. He is almost as grim as this village.

"Yeah?" I say.

"I don't understand you," he said, approaching me. "Why do you--"

"Please, sir," I say, "don't step on my plants. They're all I have left." A long pause hung over our heads, and Leon gazed at me with dead wonder. I think, even though he really didn't get to ask his question, that he understood me in that long pause.

"All you have left," he said, rubbing his chin. "All you have left." He grunted to himself, and carefully made his way back to the building that he called home. I grunted, rested from my labors, and stared down at my plants. There's a reason why there's only three plants, and not more or less. Well, there's not more because the ground's too burned and dead to hold any more.

My wife and my two boys were killed in the invasion, and these crops have been planted over their graves. I hope that one day, they'll bloom into beautiful flowers, and maybe they'll even bear fruit. That, at least, is a possibility.

****

The End


	9. Two Mirrors: The Tale of Jeane

****

Two Mirrors: The Tale of Jeane

Long, silvery hair.

__

Fire.

Skin as smooth and pale as marble.

__

The cave.

Mysterious eyes that defied a description.

__

Tyrants.

An ever-present smile that both lured and repulsed.

__

Freak.

Rune mistress.

__

Witch.

A voice as playful as a child and as erotic as a lover.

__

Hope.

Scant clothes, to attract the more masculine of customers.

__

Children.

Gentle hands, calloused by magic.

__

Slavery.

An aura of mystery.

__

Love.

She sure did travel a lot for a rune mistress…

__

Madness.

…this woman.

__

Girl.

This woman known only as "Jeane".

__

Goddess.

Jeane sighed and kept her seductive smile. It was not difficult to like her, but as many men soon found out, it was difficult to not _notice_ her. Jeane was as exotic as they came: pale skin, silvery hair, mysterious eyes, a wry smile, seductive voice, scant clothing, rune mistress… Few that came into her shop were able to look her in the eye; even fewer were able to hold the gaze.

No matter. Everyone saw the mysterious lady who implanted runes on a person's hand. They only saw the first image, the one that the Plain Mirror reflected. Jeane possessed two mirrors along with her rune tools: one was an ordinary mirror, like the kind that hung on walls. There was nothing special about it, not even the shape. The second mirror, however, was indeed special, for it was the Mirror of Truth, and anyone who looked into it would see their true self.

Jeane never revealed anything about herself--not because she was shy or afraid, but because she loved seeing the frustrated look on people's faces. If she ever found someone she genuinely loved, and if they genuinely loved her back, then maybe she could let a few things slip (it would be easier if it were another mage). But no, there really wasn't anybody like that now, although there had been somebody that Jeane had loved, when she was a little younger.

In her youth, Jeane had had many friends, and many of these friends loved her very much. But they were all gone now, either dead or killed off. But that was the way of things. It was right to mourn them, but the time for sadness had passed many ages ago for the enigmatic lady. Now, they were all just distant memories, even the youngest of them.

Jeane remembered her past well, but she had very little memories of her parents. Her mother had supposedly died before she turned three; her father… Well, it was safe to say that her father was no longer of this world. He had long ago left the mortal coil, well before Jeane had turned twenty.

In a way, her father was the one who taught her how to use magic. In her youth, Jeane was a magic-wielding fanatic, but by now she had learned to suppress her powers, keep them hidden, make sure nobody knew. Implanting runes allowed her to get away with using magic; knowing people like Crowley, Viki, Luc, and Leknaat had helped even more. Relief was one of the rare emotions that Jeane genuinely expressed--relief that she was no longer the only sorcerer in the world.

__

I escaped the cave somehow--I think someone was carrying me. I remember seeing somebody dead, or maybe they were knocked out, but there was only one of them. Something told me that there should have been two figures lying on the ground; why was there only one?

The cave was hot, but I didn't feel it. Even back then, I could suppress the heat, or the cold, and it would never touch me. After that, after I escaped the cave, I grew up--who was I again? A witch, I think they said. No, witches are evil and ugly. I was a good girl. I was beautiful. Somebody loved me in that place where I was raised.

I was always escaping. I escaped home, like I escaped the cave, and I was relied on. Somebody needed me for something, and I think I failed. That's why I don't fight, because, even now, even after they all died away, I still feel like I was a failure. Bless them, but they thought otherwise. Oh, I do miss them--whoops, customer.

"Hello, Sheena!" greeted Jeane in an exotic voice. Sheena swallowed and slowly approached the counter. Jeane leaned over slightly, allowing the young man a brief glimpse at, well, the pendant that she wore (although Jeane knew full well that Lepant's son was not admiring the trinket).

"H-hey, J-Jeane," muttered Sheena. If Jeane didn't know any better, she could have sworn that there were hearts floating around his head.

"And what can I do for you, my lord?" she asked. Jeane loved playing with men's minds by calling them "lord" and "master", but it was all fun and games, really. Besides, it helped with business.

"Uh," stuttered Sheena, "I, uh, was wondering…"

"_Yes?_"

"I-if… y-you'd… l-like to… uh, g-go… g-go out with me sometime." Jeane chuckled, although it wasn't a rude chuckle.

"My my, what a very tempting proposal," she sighed, reclining on a chair she had. Sheena was practically drowning in his own sweat. Jeane noticed, and offered him a shawl that she had tied around her arm. Sheena took it and smothered himself in the fragrant cloth.

"I'll tell you what," suggested the rune mistress. "If you can guess my age, then I'll be your girlfriend. How about it?" Sheena flinched, mentally singing to the heavens. He was also drying his body of water because of so much perspiration.

"H-how many t-tries do I get?" he asked. Jeane paused and stuck her finger in her mouth. A smile crept up on her as she decided to make it fair.

"I'll give you five chances. I'll even start out with a hint: I'm over eighteen years old." Sheena grinned and nodded his head. Apparently, he had no problems in dating older women.

"Are you twenty-three?" he asked.

"No," sang Jeane playfully.

"Uh, a hundred and forty-eight?"

"No," giggled Jeane. He was flattering her with such low numbers…

"Uh, thirty-two?"

"Try again," she smiled. Sheena shut his eyes and blurted out a number.

"One thousand, nine-hundred and eighty-six!!"

"Oh, my," whispered Jeane, a shade of red erupting on her face. "Do you really think I'm that old?"

"I, uh…" She giggled again, and gave the poor man a wink.

"That's okay. I'm not insulted. Go on, you still have one more try." Sheena nodded his head, cleared his throat, and took one last shot.

"Twenty-five?"

"Sorry," said Jeane playfully. Sheena's shoulders fell and his head drooped. "Oh, don't feel bad!" exclaimed the rune mistress. "You may have five more chances tomorrow."

"REALLY!?" he shrieked, and suddenly the excitement came back to his face. Jeane smiled warmly.

"Of course. You may keep trying until you get it right. Oh, and as an added bonus, I'll give you another hint: I'm over twenty-five years old." Sheena swallowed, thanked Jeane, and rushed out to flirt with some other poor girl. Jeane smiled and laughed out loud, and continued to wait for customers.

At sunrise, Jeane held her ordinary mirror before her as she combed her hair. She always wanted to look her best, hence the reason why she kept such an average tool around. The years had been very kind to her indeed, or maybe she was so young-looking due to her magic. Sheena thought that she was over a thousand years old. _Oh, if only they knew…_ she mused to herself. _Well, if they knew, then they would go ballistic._

Jeane put her mirror away and telepathically unlocked her door. She was not one for walking around, despite her incredible physique, and the less time she spent doing frivolous things, the more customers she would have.

"Silly me," sang Jeane to herself. "Only Tai Ho and a few others are awake at such an hour." She smiled, and with nobody around, she pulled out the Mirror of Truth. Unlike the ordinary one she had, the Mirror of Truth revealed the true person's image. It was helpful when determining a good person or a bad person, and it was a shape-shifter's worst nightmare. Mages despised it most of all, for it was often their image that was most distorted.

There were only nine other Mirrors of Truth in the world, and most had been lost in the mists of time. Jeane held one of the few surviving ones, and made it a mission of hers to collect the remaining ones. Not that she needed them--she just wanted to have them around, perhaps as a tool for trade.

She couldn't remember the last time she had looked into the mirror of truth, but it had been well before Barbarossa's birth. She never forgot what she looked like, though, or who she really was. Not even a fool could do that, even if they wanted to. The façade she was in now was her true form, yes, but this was not her real name--just a fancy that turned into habit. As she kept on telling herself, the years had been kind to her. Her hair was now a gorgeous silvery color, and her eyes still shined with that same mysterious look. In reality, only her name had changed.

A few seconds passed, and boredom crept up. Having nothing better to do, Jeane looked into the Mirror of Truth--just to remind herself who she really was, of course.

The image of Terra Branford gazed back at her.

****

The End


	10. Kirke the Jerk: The Tale of Kirke

****

Kirke the Jerk: The Tale of Kirke

There are two types of children in this world: those that get picked on, and those that are bullies. Very rarely will there ever be a third party--one who is neither bully nor the target of their scorn--but they are out there, somewhere, just waiting to be heroes. Bullies are never heroes, and neither are the children they pick on. Only those in the third party, the hero's party, emerge as a legend.

"Kirke is a jerk! Kirke is a jerk!"

"I am not!"

"Are so, are so! Kirke the jerk! Kirke the jerk!"

"Shut up!"

"Hahahahaha!!"

"STOP LAUGHING!!"

"Hahahaha! Kirke the jerk! Kirke the jerk!"

"I'm NOT a jerk!"

"Kirke is a jerk, Kirke is a jerk!"

"Mrs. Beamer! The kids are picking on me again!"

"Children, you leave poor Kirke alone!"

"A-hahahahaha! Kirke the jerk!"

"Children! Do I have to put you in time-out?!"

__

Please put them in time-out, Mrs. Beamer. Please put them in time-out forever. I will be so grateful! I'll always get straight As on my report card! I'll never be bad in class! Just please, please get rid of them for me…

"You'll be sorry! I'll get you for making fun of me!"

"Ahahahahaha!! What're you gonna do, Kirke the jerk? Beat us up?"

"Maybe he'll go cry for his mommy!"

"Hahahahaha!"

"Or Mrs. Beamer!"

"Hahahahahah!"

"S-stop it! Y-you'll be sorry! I'll get back at you! Someday!"

__

Someday…

"Somehow!"

__

Somehow…

"You'll see!"

__

You'll see. I'll get you back. Then we'll see who'll be laughing.

Fifteen years passed.

Alone, Kirke Kyrie sat on an uncomfortable wooden chair. He gazed down at the tiny cake and the two candles planted in it. It was his birthday, he was twenty years old, and he was all alone. Alone, on his birthday, with only the cake to comfort him. The candles hadn't even been lit.

Slowly, he shoved a piece of the cake in his mouth. It was a plain vanilla with plain frosting--big whoop-dee-doo. He chewed, swallowed silently, ate some more. After three bites, he left the rest on the table and kept on sitting in his chair, trapped in his own home, on his birthday, with nothing.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Without hesitation, Kirke stood up out of his chair and went to the door. He was greeted by a beautiful young lady, roughly his age, although much more enthusiastic.

"Mabel," whispered Kirke, an astonished look on his face. The girl smiled and flung her arms around him.

"Happy birthday, Mr. Kyrie!" she squealed. Kirke was still in shock by the time she had broken her hug, and was even more surprised when the lady gave him a kiss.

"Mabel," whispered Kirke after the kiss had been broken, "what are you doing here?" She smiled wryly and gave him a wink.

"What, a girl can't visit her boyfriend on his birthday?" Kirke managed to put a smile on his stoic face and invited the young lady inside. As she walked into his meager one-room house, Kirke couldn't help but spy a small box in her hands.

"Mabel," he addressed, "you didn't have to give me a present. Really."

"Aw, come on, you boring old hag!" she pouted. "It's your birthday! You gotta have presents for your birthday." Kirke sighed, and let her give him the box.

"Mabel," he warned, "I haven't had a present for my birthday in eight years."

"So may this be the first!" she squealed, more or less shoving the box in his hands. Kirke sighed and picked it up, but was interrupted by a very long and _very_ passionate kiss from Mabel.

"Thanks," was all he could say. She giggled and ruffled his uncombed hair.

"I love you, you silly man!" she exclaimed. He smiled again and opened the box. It was a necklace, and a gem had been attached to it. It was Kirke's birthstone, a diamond.

"Mabel," he whispered, holding the necklace up, "you didn't have to give this to me!"

"Aww, but of course I did!" she sang, smiling happily. "You're my boyfriend, I love you to pieces, and it's your birthday!" He smiled again, almost showing genuine happiness, and hung the chain around his neck. It almost felt like it was made for him, which it was.

"Thanks," he said blankly. Mabel squealed and kissed his cheek several times. Kirke let her have some of his cake, and she stayed the entire night.

"What are you looking at?" Mabel peeked over Kirke's shoulder, straining to see what he was reading.

"The paper and my old elementary school yearbook," he replied. He had circled some named with a pencil in the book, and several clippings had been cut from the paper. Mabel sat down with him and gazed over the names.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Here," pointed Kirke. "See these names? See these people? They're wanted criminals now."

"Oh, wow, really?" whispered Mabel. Kirke nodded his head.

"Yeah. They were real trouble-makers back in the day: took lunch money, pushed other kids around, acted up in class. Some of them turned out to be good, and some good kids turned out to be bad. I just recognized these names." He then handed Mabel the newspaper he had been reading. Several names were listed in the paper, names of criminals and wanted men. Many of these names matched up with the names in the yearbook.

"That's disturbing," said Mabel softly. "Are you gonna keep those clippings for something?"

"Yeah," said Kirke, silently keeping vigil over an advertisement he had cut out. It read, "_Able-bodied man wanted as executioner for Lorimar region. Must be able to decapitate criminals quickly and quietly, and without showing any feeling. Experience preferred but not necessary. Inquire at General Alexander's estate, 5 miles NE of Lorimar. Good pay, steady job._"

"For something."

Two months passed, and the ad remained unanswered.

"Mabel?" Kirke sighed, the ring in his pocket and the necklace over his nape. He knocked on the door again, hoping that she was home. This was it--he was really going to ask her this time. No more stuttering, no more mumbling, no more changing the subject… he was going to ask her today. Yes, today--NOW.

The door was unlocked. Mabel was a wonderful young lady who adored Kirke for reasons unknown. She was also a trusting soul, and a kind one, although not too rich, so she kept her door open. Her heart was rich, though, and she would have allowed anyone inside had they the courage to try the knob. Beggar, orphan, priest, burglar, con man, condemned, lover, enemy, it didn't matter. Mabel was just that kind of a girl, and even though he almost never showed it, Kirke loved her very much.

He opened the door and let himself in. "Mabel?" he called, and he said her name a few times more. "Mabel, it's Kirke!" No answer. She obviously wasn't home--otherwise, she would have been all over him. Kirke sighed and decided to just wait in her room. He had nowhere to go, no one to visit, no responsibilities at all. He had all the time in the world to wait.

"Mabel, you in here?" he said. Maybe she had only been napping, or else in some intense trance, and she hadn't heard him. Her room was unlocked as well, so he pushed it open…

"Kirke!!!!"

"Oh, hey, Mabel," he said. He swallowed, eyeing the man she held in her arms. He had a pair of socks on, and she had a few ribbons in her hair, and it would be a lie to say that they were wearing more than that. Still, Kirke kept his unemotional gaze.

"Kirke, it's not what it seems!" she hissed.

"Who the heck is this guy?" asked the man in her arms. Mabel more or less pushed him away and put a sheet over her bare body; Kirke was once again reminded of how beautiful she really was.

"I know what it seems like, Mabel," he said dully. "It seems as if you've fallen into the arms of another man, and I've been fodder for you to step on since who knows when." He paused just long enough to shrug. "But, that's okay, because I just came by today to express my true feelings for you. Nothing more."

__

So much for the wedding. Oh, well. Who in their right mind would love me, anyway?

"Kirke, please…" moaned Mabel, tears in her eyes. Kirke held her face in his hand, wiping away the waterworks.

"I'm going home, Mabel," he said. "I knew it was too good to be true, anyway. Don't get me wrong, my feelings aren't hurt. I'm not even mad, just a little confused. Excuse me." Without hearing another word, Kirke left his would-be fiancées and her lover.

"Kirke, wait!!" Mabel grabbed hold of him, and held on so tightly that she almost strained herself. "It really isn't what you think, really it's not!"

"Why, did he rape you?"

"Don't you say anything!!" barked the man. Still wearing only his socks, he leaped out of the bed and stormed off after him. A weapon was in his hand.

"Yes, yes!" shrieked Mabel. Casually, Kirke turned around to confront the man.

"I don't know what's going on," he said blankly. "But whatever this was, I really don't think you should come after this lady with a weapon. I suggest you put it away."

"Oh?!" barked the man. "And what are _you_ going to do about it, jerk?!"

"Jerk?" _Kirke the jerk, Kirke the jerk, Kirke the jerk…_ "Did you just call me a jerk?"

"Yeah, jerk! Hey, your name is Kirke, right? Hahaha! Kirke the jerk! Get it?"

__

Kirke is a jerk, Kirke is a jerk, Kirke is a jerk, Kirke is a jerk…

Emotionlessly, Kirke snapped his arm out and grabbed the other man by the wrist. He squeezed, and a terrifying scream roared out of the other man's throat. He didn't look it, but Kirke had the strength of a bear, and he could snap bones with his powerful grip. Mabel audibly breathed a sigh of relief.

"I suggest you apologize," he said blankly. The man screamed and kneeled to the floor in agony.

"AAAAAAAUGHHH, I'm sorry, _I'm sorry!!_" Kirke immediately released his grip, kneeled down to the man's level, and whispered something to him.

"I'm not going to kill you," he mumbled. "I think you've been punished enough. But if you ever come near Mabel or me ever again, I'll snap your hands off. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" Crying, the man nodded his head, and Kirke silently led a barely-covered Mabel back to his house.

Two more months passed.

"Excuse me."

"Hum, who're you?" Kirke walked forward, emotionless. He dropped the clipping he had cut out, the one for the executioner position. The man picked it up, scanned over it, and peered carefully at Kirke.

"You don't look like an executioner," he said.

"Try me," was the reply. The man frowned and adjusted his glasses. Wordlessly, he nodded his head at a nearby guard. The guard brought a large coconut with him, and he carefully placed it on a stool.

"If you can cut that in half," pointed the man, "then you've got the job. We've been getting requests ever since we've put that thing up, and nobody can fit the bill." Kirke wordlessly nodded his head and asked for an axe or a scythe. He was given the latter.

"In half, right?" he asked. The man nodded his head. Kirke studied the coconut for a few seconds, raised his weapon, and nonchalantly brought it down with the force of a hammer-blow. Both the coconut and the stool it was rested on were cleaved in two. The man gasped in awe at Kirke's technique, nearly dropping his cigar in the process.

"Th… that was mahogany!" he spat. "That stool was made out of mahogany!"

"I've had good motivation," said Kirke blankly. The man looked at him in amazement.

"Motivation?"

"For taking this job."

"Son," said the man, shaking his head in disbelief, "I don't care who you are or why you're here, but if you can slice through a coconut _and_ a mahogany stool, then you're on our payroll!"

"Good," said Kirke blankly. _Kirke the jerk, Kirke is a jerk, what'll you do, cry to mommy? Or maybe he'll tell on Mrs. Beamer! Kirke is a jerk, Kirke is a jerk…_

"When do I start?"

One year passed.

"Bring in the next criminal, please."

"Yes, sir!!" Kirke sighed, resting on his scythe as the guards brought in another criminal. _I'm doing the right thing. I'm meting out justice. All of these people have gotten fair trials by competent jurors, and they've all been found guilty. Their punishment is death, and I am the means to that end._

So why am I suddenly so happy?

Kirke grinned from ear to ear as he heard the next name.

"Julius Mardner!" Julius Mardner had been the first person to ever address Kirke Kyrie as a jerk. In his adulthood, he had robbed an imperial storehouse and killed the son of a nobleman. Now, he was nothing but a condemned man. Shoving, pushing, the guards laughed and spat as they forced Julius up to the executioner's square. Kirke looked at his former tormenter hungrily, and kept his grin.

"Hello, Julius Mardner!" he sang. Julius looked up and gasped.

"Kirke Kyrie! I knew you in elementary school!"

"Not exactly," relied Kirke. "You picked on me. You called me a _jerk_. You made my childhood a living Hell!"

"But Kirke! That was all in the past! I was just some goofy kid who didn't know any better!" Kirke paused, still grinning, and started to laugh out loud.

"Julius Mardner, beaten up by the gardener! Julius Mardner, beaten up by the gardener! Hahahahahahahaha!!!" He raised his scythe, _SLICE!!_

__

Who's laughing now?

"Bring in the next criminal, please."

"Yes, sir!!" Kirke sighed, resting on his scythe as the guards brought out the next condemned man. In the year that had passed, Kirke had become exceptionally good at cutting off criminal's heads--maybe a little too good. He was the world's most feared executioner: cold, hard, emotionless, and quick. His habit of taunting the condemned had given way to his reputation; sometimes, the executions were made public, just so the "audience" could hear Kirke sing out his famous taunts.

"Fredrik Mahar!" Kirke smiled gleefully as he heard another familiar name. Fredrik Mahar was another famous bully in the old school. He had done his fair share of pushing other kids, and his favorite person to push was Kirke. It was from Fredrick that Kirke got nicknamed "Piggy Turk Kirke", because he apparently liked being pushed in the mud.

"Hello, Fred," smiled Kirke. Like the man before him, Fredrik Mahar recognized Kirke immediately. Like Julius, he begged for Kirke's forgiveness; like Julius, he was taunted, and like so many others, he received a cold and quick death at the hands of the world's most famous executioner.

__

I told you I'd get back at you.

"Bring in the next criminal, please."

"Yes, sir!!" Kirke sighed to himself. Today was very busy. Old Barbarossa had really started cracking down on these lawless types. Kirke figured that he would never be out of a job if this continued. This, of course, made him smile. He enjoyed getting revenge very much. To his recollection, exactly nine of the fourteen people that had bullied him in his youth had been executed by him. The other five had either reformed or had yet to be captured. Kirke hoped that it was the latter.

The guards quietly escorted Kirke's next victim to the square, and he couldn't help but gape as he saw who it was. Rarely did Kirke ever show emotion, but this time he was willing to make an exception.

"This can't be real," he whispered. "_Mabel_?"

"Yes, Kirke," she replied. Her voice was so soft that it sounded like it would have broken had it fallen on the ground.

"Impossible!" he hissed. "What on earth did _you_ do?"

"I killed a man," she replied. Kirke swallowed, hoping that the accusation was false.

"No, that can't be…"

"I admitted to it in court," replied Mabel, her eyes surprisingly dry. "I killed a man, Kirke! I ended the life of another human being!"

"Who?" he asked, loosening his grip on his scythe. Mabel paused before speaking.

"That man that you caught me in bed with," she whispered. "The man who raped me. After you broke up with me, I ran out in the world, and I found out where he lived, and I went to his house, and I… I…"

"You killed him." Kirke swallowed, shutting his eyelids. He did not want to see her now, or ever. "Mabel, no matter what this man did to you, you had no right--"

"I know," she replied. Wordlessly, she kneeled down, and placed her head on the block like a sacrificial lamb. "Just forgive me, Kirke. Please, please forgive me." Kirke sighed, the weapon still in his hands.

__

If the executioner does not feel the need to perform his duty, then the condemned may go free, granted that the executioner keep watch over the condemned. It's all in your hands now, Kirke. It is all in your hands, literally in your hands.

Kirke loosened his grip on his weapon. Without saying _I love you,_ without saying _I forgive you,_ without saying _You're free to go,_ he ripped off his necklace and threw it at his former love. The look she gave him would haunt him until his last days.

__

Your mission is to exact justice. Above all else, you must ensure that justice is done. It is all in your hands, Kirke. Mercy or judgment, it's all up to you. That is your blessing, and that is your curse. I will have nothing to say on the matter.

Kirke swung his weapon in the air…

__

SLICE!!

Silence.

"Bring in the next criminal, please."

****

The End


	11. Zen: The Tale of

****

Zen: The Tale of

Recently, I joined

The Liberation Army.

My garden will help.

I see within them

Promise, fear, hopelessness, change,

A bright, shining hope.

I strike at the ground

With my spade and with my hoe

Tilling the soil.

Seeds of the future

Grow inside my garden now--

They may blossom soon.

Through many battles

I am led, by kings and pawns--

Chess game of ages.

They ask for my soul,

I give them my eternal

Heart to end the war.

Grief, loneliness, tears

Destruction, devastation,

Flames lick at my soul.

It does not tire--

Never does my heart cease to

Beat for a just cause.

Near the end of war,

I find solace in simple

Pastimes and callings.

I remain right there,

To give the castle flowers--

I hope they bloom too.

The end of my tale

I hope you enjoyed it all

I have no regrets.

****

The End


	12. Imperial Blues: The Tale of Griffith

****

Imperial Blues: The Tale of Griffith

My name is Griffith, and I used to work for the Scarlet Moon Empire. I was a commander in their army, and I was in charge of a lot of good soldiers. I was stationed at the Northern Checkpoint, somewhere between Scarletecia Castle and Moravia Castle. My position was overthrown one day and I surrendered myself into the Liberation Army. Obviously, I never thought something like that would happen when I signed up.

Like half of the world at the time, I swore an oath of loyalty to Barbarossa after the Succession War. I had been born in Kaku, which benefited me greatly since I lived so close to the capitol. When I was old enough, I desired to make good on the oath I had made and joined the imperial army as quickly as possible.

People say that the Empire was corrupted, but it wasn't always like that. The Golden Empire was exactly that for the first few years of its existence. There was much prosperity and wealth in the country, and the empire was generous and kind, with many competent leaders at its helm (ahem, I was one of them).

The imperial army was tough, and very unforgiving. I should know, I was a part of it. When I first arrived in my barracks, I had a mixture of emotions about the situation: the sheer realization of where I was and what I was into, the size of the camp, the number of cadets, how stern our superiors were, and your basic all-around youthful anxiety. I fit in well, though, and I made some pretty good friends along the way.

I was just average when it came to fighting (or anything else for that matter), and I wasn't exactly the world's smartest man. I knew how to follow orders okay, and I definitely had a knack for leading men into battle. Ironic as it seems, my loyalty was my strong point. As I rose in rank, the men under my command began to like me more and more, which in turn benefited myself.

The army life was tough, and I went through a lot just to survive. I made few friends there, and little else can be said of my experience other than the food wasn't really great. My skills were being exercised greatly, and I got a promotion every eight months (or so it seemed), and I was receiving a small pension for my involvement. Eventually, I graduated from the training, and was offered a permanent position in the military. I would be positioned in a good part of the world, and I would have plenty of men under my supervision. Since I was just an average soldier, I wouldn't be given any more responsibilities than I could handle. Needless to say, I leaped at the chance.

For the first month in my new position, I made sure that all my subordinates knew who I was and what I expected of them. I became their commander in time, and soon the entire immediate area was under my watch. I insisted that the soldiers be drilled in case of emergencies, but with Milich Oppenheimer to the south and Kasim Hazil to the north, I had little to worry about.

I didn't care much for the Liberation Army. Even though they were supposed to be my enemies, I let them slide on by with a "live and let live" policy--they don't bother me, I don't bother them. This was a mistake--because of my lack of involvement, my men grew lazy and restless, and the army increased in size. I had been placed in a good position where I could lend some serious aid to the empire, but even a mountain is conquerable. To elaborate, here's what I mean…

Slowly but surely, the Empire began festering. I didn't really notice this change, since I was crammed in between two great generals, but I certainly got wind of it. Fires began starting and blood began boiling, and soon an all-out rebellion was taking place. I heard some former imperial noblewoman was the leader; how ironic. Captain Mintz was also rumored to be a part of it; heaven help us all if that were the case!

Despite having a top-secret spy amongst their ranks, I couldn't help but grow nervous as the steamroller known as Liberation came plowing my way. First Kwanda Rosman's area fell, then Milich's. I knew that if Milich had fallen, I would soon crumble afterwards. I literally fell down on my knees after I heard of Teo McDohl's defeat, and the Lorimar takeover sent chills up my spine. I didn't like the man they had sent into that region, but I heard that he was quite terrorizing.

My assumptions proved correct. The Liberation Army eventually passed by my area, feigning a mock battle. This little trick cost me the checkpoint, but I knew I was screwed once Teo and Milich were defeated. Shrugging with defeat, I handed my area over to the army without too much hassle, and loaned what remained of my soldiers in the fight. My heart sank as I scoured the newspapers the next day. There was no indication that the Northern Checkpoint had been taken over.

I was forced to betray my precious empire soon afterwards. I halfway enjoyed it, actually; imagine the look on my face as I entered Moravia castle with Mathiu Silverberg in tow! And you can only imagine the look on Kasim's face as he leaned that he had been tricked into surrendering. Without spilling a single drop of blood, Moravia fell into the Liberation Army's hands, and only Shaharazade and the capitol were next.

I didn't put myself to terribly good use while in this new army (the food was much better). Once in awhile, I would be called in to fight something, and I even lent a hand in taking over the capitol. Imagine the pain in my heart as I presented myself to my emperor, and imagine that same pain escalated as I realized that he didn't even know who I was. Up until a week ago, I had served the empire for almost fifteen years.

After Gregmister came into possession of the Toran Republic, I relinquished my title and started my own business. Feel free to come on by sometime, and I'll show you what kind of pursuits I truly desired to chase after (I figured I wasn't meant for the army). As of now, I have collected a small fortune from my chain of grocery stores. It's too bad, though… I never got my moment in the sun. Ah, well. Not everyone can be famous.

****

The End


	13. Every Time I Try to Get Out...: The Tal...

****

Every Time I Try to Get Out…: The Tale of Giovanni

The butler woke up at five in the morning, stretched, and greeted the warm day with a yawn. This town was a beautiful place in the wee hours of the morning. Giovanni smiled as he rose out of bed and began pulling back the curtains and letting the light of the sun shine in the household. As head butler, it was his job to make sure that the Lepant residence was as presentable as it could get.

"Good morning, Master Lepant," he addressed, setting down a tray of tea, juice, coffee, and chocolate on the table. "Good morning, Mistress Eileen. How are you today?"

"Perfect," replied Lepant, chugging down the coffee. "Absolutely perfect."

"And you, Madame?"

"Good as always," she replied. "Oh, after you serve us breakfast, will you do us a favor?" Giovanni smiled and bowed. She knew that she did not have to ask him to do a favor.

"Of course, Mistress Eileen. What do you need?"

"Giovanni, would you kindly tend to the lawn?" she asked. "It's gotten a little… overgrown recently."

"Yes, mistress Eileen." Quietly, Giovanni bowed his head and laid their breakfasts down. Ignoring the mumblings coming from Master Sheena's room, Giovanni stepped outside. His eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as they saw just how high the grass really was. Giovanni shook his head, swearing that Master Lepant's lawn had gotten an infestation of trees. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. No, it was true--the grass was at least a foot high. He sighed, and forested through the jungle in search of the tool shed. It was going to be a _long_ day.

Giovanni sighed, his shears useless in mowing down the tall grass. _I don't need cutters,_ he thought,_ I need a flame thrower!!_ He sighed and sheared a few more blades, but quickly grew tired of the activity. He tossed the cutters away, and quickly hurried over to a Rune shop for a Fire crystal…

__

CRASH!!

"Oh, sorry Sheena… I apologize…"

"Aw, mom! My model ship!!"

"I apologize… I'll get Lepant to buy you another…"

"No, it's okay…"

"Where's Giovanni? Giovanni?"

"Oh, he's outside trimming the lawn."

"Ah. Giovanni!" Giovanni sighed, shook his head, and stepped back into the house.

"Yes, Master Lepant?" Lepant pointed to a destroyed model ship on the floor.

"Giovanni, could you please clean that up?" he asked. The butler sighed, agreed to do the job, and went in search of a broom.

Silently humming a tune, Giovanni finished sweeping up Sheena's model ship. It was far too destroyed to rebuild, so he had no choice but to throw it away. After he gave the tiny vessel its final rites, Giovanni did his usual rounds of the house. Since he was head butler, it was his job to make sure that everything was running smoothly in the Lepant household. He had Rock and Juppo to help him, but more often than not, it was left up to Giovanni to make sure that everything was okay.

Finishing his rounds of the house, Giovanni sighed and took a quiet walk outside. Mentally he cursed as he remembered the condition of the lawn, and set about getting that Rune. No man-made item could possibly trim this monster of a lawn, so he had to rely on magic. As Giovanni's hand touched the Runemaster's door, he heard a distinctive explosion.

"FIRE!!!!" Nearly half the population of Kouan ran around screaming; the other half was desperately trying to put out the blaze. Giovanni grunted, turned around, and meandered back to his home. Effortlessly, he walked through the door and activated the sprinkler system that Juppo had installed. Mentally, he cursed. _Of course, if that clown had any sense left in him, he'd have activated the sprinklers! After all, he's the one who started that fire!_

Giovanni sighed as the house was littered with water. A half-burnt, half-soaked Juppo stood there in the hall, a brand-new invention in his hand. Needless to say, it still had a few bugs to work out.

"Uh, hi, Gi," he said. Giovanni grunted.

"Please refrain from starting any more fires, Juppo," he groaned. The trickster grinned and scampered away before anybody could accuse him of anything. Giovanni growled to himself, and without anybody asking him, he left in search of a mop and pail…

Exhausted, Giovanni finally placed the very last dish in the cupboard. With a satisfied smile and a soft chuckle, he shuffled out of the dining room and back into the den. With the Masters and Mistress away, it was up to him to make sure that nothing bad happened--in other words, he had to keep Juppo chained up.

Obeying his nose, Giovanni wandered through the den and into the kitchen. Rock was there, stirring up some noodles and singing a very off-key drinking song. Giovanni was so hungry, he would have endured an entire chorus of drunks to get some food.

"Excuse me, Rock?" he asked. "I couldn't help but notice that you're making dinner. May I--"

"For the Master," interrupted Rock, tapping Giovanni's hand with a wooden spoon. Those three words were enough to drive the butler away.

"Oh, I see. Well, if you need any help--"

"Actually," blurted Rock, "I _could_ use a cleaner working area. Here, I'll let the noodles simmer while I work on the salad, so you can go ahead and clean anything that's dirty." Wordlessly, Giovanni groaned and went in search of a clean rag. The stove was still too hot to touch, so he was forced to sweep the floor up. The filth that had settled underneath was sickening.

"It's going to be a long evening," he mumbled to himself.

When the Masters and Mistress finally arrived, dinner had been prepared and the dining room was perfect, as always. Lepant thanked Giovanni and Rock for their efforts, and personally gave them their payment for the day. With a smile and a bow, Giovanni began serving the dinner: salad, noodles, and lamb, the Mistress' favorite. A snifter of red wine went into two cups; for young master Sheena, spiced tea. Giovanni shuffled away once dinner had been set, and once again reminded his masters that he would be nearby if they needed anything.

"Ahh…" Giovanni smiled to himself, his fingers hugging the delicate sub sandwich. He stretched his jaws, nearly crying out of the sheer blissful scent of the meal he was about to engulf, and slowly shoveled the sub in his mouth…

__

Ring-ring-ring!!

"Of all the…" Giovanni muttered out some other choice words, and reluctantly laid his supper down. With a crestfallen heart, he managed to return to the dining room where the masters were. Apparently, it had been a full day for all of them: dinner was completely gone.

"Ahh, wonderful meal as always!" chortled Lepant. His wife smiled and applied a napkin to her lips. "Giovanni, will you be so kind as to…"

"Of course, Master Lepant," he replied. His fingers were already grasping a dish as he made his way to the sink. He bade his masters good evening as they left the dining room, and put his appetite on hold as he began scrubbing the dishes…

When he returned to his room, the only remainder of his meal were crumbs and the cellophane it had been wrapped in. Words that would have made a pirate blush escaped out of Giovanni's mouth, but his stomach cursed even louder.

As night fell, Giovanni went through his rounds one final time. The yard had finally been cut, which left one less thing for him to do the next day. Everything was looking okay, with some exceptions that would have to be taken care of the next day. Satisfied that he had done all he could, Giovanni shuffled off to his room to retire for the night. He had gotten up at five in the morning; it was well past midnight now. Just another long day at the Lepant household…

Ever since he could remember, Giovanni was Lepant's butler. He had literally been in servitude all of his life, and his father before him had been under Lepant's father's payroll as well. Giovanni still couldn't recall how he had ever gotten involved with this admirable family, nor could he remember how he became their butler.

Perhaps he had been one of those thieves that they caught, and subsequently punished by forcing them to do menial labor? Maybe his father had owed Lepant's father a debt, and he was still trying to pay it off. Perhaps he desired this kind of job, a life taking care of other people; after what had happened with Helene, Giovanni wanted to do whatever he could to make up for his mistakes. Or perhaps this was just his destiny, to sacrifice his own dreams and desires for that of another.

Whatever the reason, Giovanni was content in his position--most of the time. There were those very rare moments when he desired nothing more than to escape Kouan, go out into the world, and be his own boss for a change. Once, just once, he desired to get out and see what else the world had to offer. He wasn't _that_ old, and he still had dreams and ambitions. But for the time being, they could wait.

At five o'clock in the morning, Giovanni rose with the sun and decided that today would be a good day to escape his job and see the world. He had earned enough money to pay off any debts he may have acquired, and he had enough with him to see the world. He had given almost all of his life to this family; certainly they could do without him for a few years!

"Yes," he reasoned, smiling to himself, "I'll do just that! I'll simply tell Master Lepant that I desire a few years off for a vacation! And I will most certainly promise to come back here soon! Yes, yes…"

__

CRASH!!

Giovanni flinched, knowing full well which item had been broken. He groaned as Lepant called his name, and his adventurous spirits sank. Quietly, he let out a growling sound, and balled his fists up.

"Every time I try to get out," he sneered, "_they pull me back in!!_"

****

The End


	14. Stupid Cupid, Part One: The Tale of Lot...

****

Stupid Cupid, Part One: The Tale of Lotte

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Warning! This is my first attempt at a M/M (yaoi) and F/F (yuri) fanfic! I swear upon everything sacred and good that none of these pairings are my idea! It was all done by lottery! It's all in good fun, though, really!

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Quickly, Lotte scampered away from the basement, the shouting of that old geezer dying down. She hid behind a wall and desperately tried to muffle her giggling. Apparently, it worked--old Crowley ran on by without seeing _or_ hearing her.

"Old bat must be losing his hearing," she chuckled. Lotte sighed, and gazed at the relic she had swiped from Crowley's arrangement of magical objects. Slowly, her hand caressed across the long shaft of it, and her eyes twinkled when they beheld the glowing tip. On the surface, it looked like any ordinary staff--but, oh! What a mistake that would have been! Inwardly, the object possessed great powers--mainly, the secret powers of love.

To make things simple, and to cut straight to the plot, the object was the Wand of Love. Anybody who felt its effects would instantly be smitten with the first person they laid their eyes on. Man, woman, or beast, the Wand of Love didn't discriminate.

And Lotte had it in her possession. Oh no!

"Now," she sang, skipping down the stairs of Toran Castle, "who shall I hit first?" She pursed her lips and heavily considered all the residents who were sorely lacking in the romantic department. Unfortunately, the castle was dangerously low on women, but then that would make things all the more interesting for Lotte!

Carefully, she passed Kasios, Futch, and Millie, and made her way to the left tower. Standing there half-asleep in the sunlight was former Lieutenant Valeria.

"Perfect," cackled Lotte. "Val's been in the dumps ever since she was brought onboard! Alen and Grenseal often hang around here, so she's bound to see one of them! I think she'd like Grenseal!" So with a wave of her wand and a quick dash away (Lotte didn't want Valeria falling in love with _her_!), Lotte dared to play matchmaker.

Valeria opened her eyes and looked around, completely unaware that she had been struck by the Love Bug. Lotte almost screamed as she spotted Camille walking towards the tower. Camille was cute and strong, but usually acted like a really big shrew, so she too was in need of a love. But _Valeria_? Lotte had to see this!!

"Huh, oh Valeria, where's Gremio?!" demanded Camille. "That lazy oaf still hasn't paid me off! Hey, uh, why are you looking at me like that?" Camille paused in mid-stride, unaware of the cruelty that fate had laid upon her.

"Oh, uh, h-hello, C-Camille," managed Valeria. She swallowed, obviously perspiring, and approached the younger lady. "Ah, I don't see why you'd want to be with Gremio… erm, that is, why you'd want to chase him around all day… when you could have me…"

"WHAT!!!" Lotte giggled, and scampered away as fast as she knew how. She certainly didn't want to stick around for the rest of this!

"Oh, Eileen my love!"

"Lepant! Darling!" The two sighed and embraced each other. Lotte smirked.

"Score!" she sang. "I just love a happy ending!" She smiled, and haphazardly aimed her wand at the bath house. She had been aiming for Sheena, who was bathing alone, but unfortunately, the ray hit Sansuke instead.

"Huh? Uh, what happened?" said the master of baths. He scratched his head, and suddenly began sniffing in the air. Obeying the rumbling in his stomach, Sansuke trailed off to the kitchen, where Lester was making another stew…

"Oh, rapture!" squealed Sansuke. "Oh, my darling! At last I have found my love!"

"Huh?" Lester cocked his eyebrows, obviously muddled by Sansuke's outburst. The master of baths ignored him and dove right towards the stew that was still broiling on the pot.

"MMhmm, mmnnnn, yum-yum-yumm!! D-delicious!!" Lester sighed, and visibly wiped his brow.

"Uh, I'm… glad you like it…"

Lotte giggled, glad she had hooked up another pair of "lovers". With the wand in her hand and a sparkle in her eye, she set about hooking other people up. Needless to say, the remainder of that day would be very disastrous--and hilarious!

The day waned, and Lotte soon began realizing the folly of her error. In an effort to hook grumpy old Kreutz up with somebody, she had mistakenly given him the hots for Lorelai. The results of the next pairing--Juppo and Pesmerga--were even more disturbing. Meg would've been lucky to find Juppo alive, let alone in one piece. Zen and Kwanda didn't go well either, and Sancho had much difficulty in prying Melodye away from him. Fortunately, it seemed as if Ronnie Bell had liked Yam Koo from the start, and Lotte was only doing them a favor.

For some odd reason, Lotte had no luck in giving Jeane the bug. However, she knew that Milia was in need of a significant other, and who better than Futch to cover those bases? Sure, he was younger than her--maybe about ten years, but in love, did that really matter? Of course it did.

Lotte giggled and waved the Love Wand at Milia, knowing that the gorgeous dragoon would notice Futch. Unfortunately, Milia spotted nobody as she made a beeline to the elevator. Lotte followed, hoping that she would at least notice somebody on a different floor. A nervous sweat tickled her face as she saw Milia approach Jeane's rune shop.

"Hello, Lady Milia," greeted Jeane in an exotic voice. Milia's face turned as red as her tunic.

"L-lady Jeane…" Milia sighed, and suddenly fainted in the rune shop. Jeane giggled at first--she knew that it was hard to not admire her--but her childish nature soon turned to concern when Milia did not wake.

"Oh, dear…" she sighed, and carefully walked over to revive the dragoon.

"Oops," giggled Lotte.

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!!!" Tir came screaming towards Lotte, knowing full well that she had been hooking people up all day.

"Yes, Lord Tir?" she asked innocently.

"You mean old witch!!" he screamed. "How DARE you hook my Kasumi up with Moose!"

"Hey, I _tried_ to hook her up with you," she pouted. Her eyes were wide and brimming with tears, but Tir didn't buy the act.

"Well you didn't try hard enough! Fix it now!"

"Yes, young master," she sighed. She waved him away, and grudgingly began walking to where Kasumi was strangling Moose.

"Lotte!" exclaimed the blacksmith. "Get her off of me! I _know_ you're responsible for this!" Lotte smiled and quickly snapped Kasumi out of her trance.

"Hey, Kasumi! You there?" she asked. The cute little ninja girl shook her head like a wounded boxer.

"Huh? UH!!? What am I doing here?!"

"Uh," managed Lotte, "you wanted to remodel your Sakura."

"Oh." Kasumi paused, and handed her claw over to Moose. "What can you do with it?"

"I'll see what I can do," he huffed, and went about remodeling her weapon. Lotte visibly sighed, and opted to try again some other time.

Sometime later, even more chaos had erupted in Toran Castle. Wanting to fix her errors with Milia, Lotte struck Futch with her wand. The results were terrifying: he ended up chasing after Sylvina. Chandler and Marie were equally terrifying, but nothing could prepare her for the fiasco that erupted when Cleo flirted with Kimberly.

But Lotte also found many successes. Humphrey seemed mesmerized by Kasios and her singing; she seemed relieved that another person appreciated her arts. Mina blushed when cute little Qlon declared her his "damsel in distress", and in turn showed the bizarre gatekeeper how to dance. Even the dark and stoic Kirke managed to find love with the simple washerwoman Sarah.

"Tengaar? Tengaar? Gosh, I wonder where she is…" Just then, Lotte was skipping past Hix. She was severely tempted to strike him with the wand so he would fall in love with her, but she was smart enough to know that he already had a sweetheart. However, she could still be friends--and right now, Hix looked like he needed a friend.

"What's wrong, cutie?" asked Lotte. Hix ignored her flirts.

"Tengaar's missing! I hope she isn't flirting with anybody!" He glared at Lotte acidly, and she reflected his glare innocently.

"Uh, I think I struck her while you were in the same room…"

"ACK, you didn't!! Meg was in that room too!!" Hix began screaming at his new revelation; Lotte soon joined him.

"Oops," she muttered. "I, uh, I think I struck Meg too…"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" Hix suddenly turned ferocious, and grabbed Lotte by the collar of her tunic. "**LOTTE, YOU _WILL_ FIX THAT MISTAKE FOR ME, OR ELSE I'LL SLAUGHTER YOU SO BAD THERE WON'T BE ENOUGH LEFT OVER TO FIT A CHINCHIRIRON BOWL!!!!!!!!!!!!!**"

"Uh, sure, whatever you say…" Hix's demonic side faded, and he once again attained the look of an innocent young man.

"Really? Great! Thanks!" He smiled warmly, and Lotte contemplated vomiting. If one person had been hit by the Love Wand, the results would be disastrous enough; if two people had been hit at the same time… Lotte could only imagine…

Well, a few embarrassing scenes, fights, and crowbars later, Tengaar had recovered from her Love Bug and fell back in love with Hix. Meg, unfortunately, was still under the influence, although Tengaar was hardly her object of affections…

"LOTTE!!!!!!!! GET HER OFF OF MEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!"

"Aw, Hix, c'mon! Go on a journey with me!"

"No!"

"Hey, Meg, uh… that's my boyfriend!"

"So? We can share!"

"Gross!!"

"Hix, you're blushing!"

"I am not!!!" Needless to say, Lotte escaped the scene giggling.

Lotte sighed, bored out of her mind. Giovanni and Krin had engaged in a rousing drinking song after hooking up, Marco and Georges had teamed up to spread their empire of games, and poor Sheena, who Lotte actually had a crush on, had been bashed in the head by Gaspar's Chinchiriron bowl and bonked on the head by Sergei's wrench. Apparently, he should have stuck with girls.

"I'll try one more time," said Lotte to herself, spying Sheena in the room. Secretly, she attacked herself with the Love Wand and aimed her sights on Sheena. Suddenly, he turned around to flirt with Camille, leaving Viktor standing in the way.

"Oh, c'mere, Vikki!!" Viktor saw Lotte squealing, and he too let out a squeal as she squeezed him--although he was hardly overjoyed.

"Hey! Gacck!! GET HER OFF OF ME!!"

"Not a chance!" chuckled Flik, who had seen the entire spectacle. "This is just too precious!"

"I SWEAR I WILL RIP YOUR SICK FREAKING HEAD OFF, FLIK!!!!!" Flik smiled and winked, and scampered away before Lotte could aim her wand at him.

"Oh, Fuuuuuuuuuuuuumaaaaaa!! Where are you, my friend?? Fuuuuuuuuumaaa!!!" Vincent sighed, growing weary of searching for Fuma. _Good luck!_, Kasumi had screamed. _Not even I could find him! He's really gotten good at that vanishing trick!_ Vincent sighed, vowing to never give up.

"Fuuuuuumaaaaa!!! Where are you, my friend?! FUMA!!"

"(Please don't find me, please don't find me, please don't find me, please don't find me, please don't find me, please don't find me…)"

"Arr…"

"Pirates shouldn't have these feelings…"

"Aye, mate." Kanak sighed, and drank his mug of rum.

"Hey, Kanak?"

"Yeah?"

"Love stinks."

"Yeah." Leonardo raised his mug to the air, and he clinked it to Kanak's.

"Here's to piracy."

"To piracy."

"And beautiful young women."

"Aye, hahahahaha!!!"

Apple sighed, her hand digging into her pockets wistfully. She had done something she never thought she ever would have done: she actually paid Lotte to hook her up with a nice man. She knew that it was wrong to mess with someone's emotions, especially love, and it was wrong to pay someone to give her a boyfriend… but WHO CARED?!

"Apple, I found someone!!"

"Hey, where are you taking me?!"

"You'll see!" Two voices filled the air: one, a squealing and bubbling voice that must've been Lotte's. The other was filled with thought and intrigue, but Apple didn't recognize it.

"Hey, put that Wand down!"

"Not a chance! BAM!!!"

"Ow! Hey!"

"HERE!!!" Hastily, Lotte pushed a blonde young man into the empty room, forcing him to glance at Apple. He did--and continued glancing, long after the young woman's face turned as red as her name.

"Quincy??"

Lotte smiled and wisely closed the door on the new couple, making sure that they were not disturbed. With the confidence of a prize fighter, she returned to the hall and continued to search for new possible lovers.

"AHA!! Onward, Chapman! Onward to glory!"

"Urgh, where's Sancho…?" Lotte smiled as she saw the half-deranged knight Max guide the armory salesman Chapman across the hall. Being too old and eccentric for a real love, Maximilian had instead seen Chapman as his new squire, and had since "recruited" him in his journeys. Lotte ignored both of them and journeyed straight to the General's tower, where she had last left Valeria with Camille…

Ignoring the "noises" that came from Camille's room, Lotte crept up on Lady Sonya Shulen. She had admired Sonya ever since the wily general signed on, and desired nothing more than to see the elegant lady hooked up with a noble gentleman. Kwanda, Kasim, and Leon might've been too old for her, but the sophisticated Window certainly wasn't, and neither were Alen or Grenseal.

Lotte snickered as she struck Sonya with the wand's power, and eagerly awaited for one of the three men to enter the room. Footsteps could be heard from outside, and Lotte's heart began leaping as she tried to guess which lucky guy would spend the evening with Sonya.

Anji came through.

"Oh, crap," said Lotte and Anji at the same time. Lotte's excitement turned to dread as she saw the pirate and the imperial naval general meet. The two were far from friends; at _best_, they were bitter enemies. Both Anji and Sonya seemed to exist only to kill each other: Sonya had summoned a dragon zombie to prevent Anji from raiding Toran Castle; Anji had tacked on a wedding dress at Shaharazade to spite her.

"It's _you_," spat Anji, noticing Sonya's presence. Immediately, her face contorted in a sneer, and she reached for a weapon. At the very last second, though, the magic of love kicked in, and Sonya's rage turned to affection.

"My dear Anji," she sang, dropping her weapon. Anji's eyes nearly fell out of their sockets as they saw Sonya slink over to him. She smiled warmly, gazing into his wild eyes. "Where have you been? I missed you!"

"Kill me," was all he could say. Sonya chuckled and winked at him. Anji's face grew red, and he grinned evilly. Even though he couldn't stand Sonya's guts at times, she was still a gorgeous woman, and he had even desired to have her company at times. Pirates and sophisticated lady-generals didn't usually mix well; this was certainly no exception.

"I'd rather not," sang Sonya, and Lotte couldn't help but squeal as their lips touched.

Well, the day had just begun, sort of, and already there had been several cute couples made. For once in his life, Sheena was trying to repel a girl's advancements--but with Kimberly, it was understandable. Max had officially declared Viki his "fair lady", and had even written a few sonnets dedicated to her. He also had Hugo as a scribe--after all, knights need someone to record their deeds, right? Max had even convinced Luc to be one of his squires; nobody knew how Luc agreed to such terms.

On a more hilarious note, Warren had nearly died laughing as he saw Lorelai chase after Taggart. The poor guy was pretty fast for one so thin and wan; he was strong too, but he was unable to avoid the adventurer for long. Lotte's attempt at hooking Meg up with a nice young man also backfired; the adventurer ended up "interrupting" Apple and Quincy. She had mistakenly hooked Morgan up with Alen; this resulted in somebody getting a black eye.

True to her word, Lotte attempted to give Kasumi and Tir another chance. Her aim was bad as always: Kasumi ended up crushing on Sydonia before long, and the two made a surprisingly good couple. The ninja was able to break out of the trance, only to fall in love with Viktor five minutes later. Poor Tir McDohl!!

In the meantime, Lotte was having problems of her own. Heavily desiring to score Sheena, Luc, or Futch, she honestly tried her best. Her best ended her hooking up with Jeane at first; thankfully, the rune mistress was able to snap her out of it.

Camille sighed to herself, barely clothed and out of breath. Her forehead was soaked with sweat, and her face was flushed from the intensity that had gone on between them. Her hair was messed up, and her limbs wobbled with anxiety. Her eyes stared at Valeria wearily.

"That was wonderful," she whispered, her breathing thin. Valeria hummed.

"You're much stronger than you look," she wheezed. "I was… surprised." Camille smiled, her cheeks turning as red as her hair.

"I'm glad I could help out," she managed. "I just hope nobody suspects anything."

"Don't worry," whispered Valeria softly, taking Camille's hand into hers. "Nobody will suspect that we've been training all this time." Camille smiled, and winked at her new sparring partner.

"You wanna grab something to eat at Antonio's?" she asked.

"Only if I'm paying," offered Valeria. Camille smiled, playfully aimed her spear at the older woman, and "forced" her out of the room. (Fooled you, didn't I?!)

BAM!!!

"Camille! CAMILLE, COME BAAAAAAAACKKKKK!!!!!" Camille suddenly had hearts floating around her head, and made a beeline for the exotic siren that was humming a hypnotic tune…

"OUT OF MY WAY, HUMPHREY!!!!!"

"Hm…" Humphrey sighed, and silently stood to leave. Camille gushed and sat cross-legged as she requested a song from her beloved siren.

"Huh," sighed Kasios, "and I was so enjoying Sir Humphrey's company…"

They say that all's fair in love and war, but apparently, there wasn't a noticeable difference in the two concepts. Allow some elaboration into the scene: Lotte had been flitting around the castle, nearly wearing herself out as she connected everyone to everyone else. Sometimes her magic didn't even work; that idiot Kage seemed unaffected, as did Fukien and Mathiu. But wherever one failure stopped her, three more rewarded her!

Alen "got over" Morgan fairly quickly when Lotte gave him a dose while he was in Kimberly's vicinity. The two hit it off and Lotte never bothered them again; as for Grenseal, Lotte giggled and squealed with delight as she discovered his secret stash of poetry dedicated to Milia. A tap on the dragoon's head was all she needed to propel the new love!!

"I think I'll leave them alone," she giggled, sneaking away from Alen and Grenseal's room. "Although I hope they don't do a foursome!"

"What a disgusting thought you have there!" cried Gremio. "And the nerve of playing with people's emotions like that!" Lotte sniffled, and soon began crying.

"Aw, c'mon," she pouted. "The Wand of Love only brings out the hidden desires that we all harbor!"

"Hidden desires nothing!" snorted Gremio. "I've been swamped by all sorts of characters today--most of whom were completely inappropriate! Do you know how hard it is to get a tiger warrior and an innkeeper from strangling your legs?"

"No…"

"Then no more love!!" Gremio reached for the wand, but was promptly stopped by Lotte. She hastily struck him with the wand, and scampered away before he could fall in love with her. Just then, Melodye entered, still heartbroken over Sancho's cold shoulder.

"Oh, darling Melodye…"

"Huh, Gremio?!" Melodye scratched her head, unsure as to what he meant, and continued her confusion even as he rushed towards her…

"Well," snorted Lotte, "that takes care of that!" She dusted off her hands, happy to see Esmeralda "befriending" someone just as air-headed as herself.

"My darling Viki," sang the older woman, "your hair is just too common! Here, you _must_ allow me to fix it up for you!"

"Huh? What? Ow, hey, don't pull on my hair!"

"But I'm fixing it for you, dear!"

"Oh, right…" Lotte chuckled at the new couple, but suddenly spotted both Valeria and Sheena in a depression.

"What's up, guys?" she asked. Both her friends sighed.

"Camille didn't come back to, uh, you know…" mumbled Valeria. Sheena's ears grew red.

"Yeah, and uh, Kimberly's off with that Alen guy," he muttered. Lotte growled.

"Why don't I hook _you two_ up together?!" she offered.

"NOO!!!!!" But before she heard their protest, Lotte had blasted both sword fighters with her wand, and it was only a matter of time before they found true LUV!!!

"Oh, my!" gushed Sheena. "Yam Koo! Yoo-hoo!"

"Oh, Ronnie Bell!" sighed Valeria. Lotte nearly collapsed on the floor.

"Whoops," she giggled, "let's try that again!" Lotte blasted the two with her magic, and they got their genders correct.

"Uh, hey Ronnie," said Sheena nervously. Ronnie Bell ran over and put Sheena in a headlock.

"Hey, cutie! How's about we go out and have some fun?!"

"G-great," he managed. Lotte smiled and wished the two of them good luck.

"Wow, you say you're an expert fisher?" gasped Valeria.

"And you're a master of the sword?" said Yam Koo. Valeria's eyes twinkled, and two more people walked away to the docks, elbow in elbow. Needless to say, Lotte began sobbing.

"That's… just… _so_… romantic!! Boo-hoo-hoo!"

"…aaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"

Viktor sighed, and shrugged in defeat.

"What's gotten into her?" he asked. Flik shrugged.

"I dunno." Suddenly, the two men could hear more screaming from down the hall.

"WAIT!! LOTTE!! DON'T LEAVE! I **LOVE YOU!!!**" Both Flik and Viktor smacked themselves in the face as they saw Kasumi give chase to Lotte.

"Hey, guys!" she barked, dashing past them. "Have you seen dear Lotte? I MUST find her!! Please!!"

"That way," pointed Viktor. Kasumi smiled.

"Thanks, I owe ya!" She giggled, and skipped merrily along the path. Flik sighed.

"That wasn't the way that Lotte went," he said. Viktor shrugged.

"I figured that I could save her skin once, so she'd owe me a favor." Flik smiled.

"Pretty smart. Oh hey, here she--"

"…aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" Quincy ran screaming down the hall, an enraged Apple storming off right behind. After them came Camille, with hearts over her head and a certain hunter's name on her lips. Flik sighed and finished his statement five seconds too late.

"Comes now." Suddenly, he heard the sound of laughter from the inn, and was only too curious to check it out. He could have sworn that that laughter was Master Tir's…!

"Eh, Leader? You in here?" he asked. Flik shot Lotte a double take as she removed Lorelai's blindfold and presented the adventurer to him.

"Ta-daa!" squealed the magician. She giggled as Lorelai grew hearts in her eyes, and her giggling turned into _ooh_ing as Lorelai embraced Flik.

"Lotte!" he exclaimed. "Y-you did this for me?!"

"Of course!" she squealed. "Odessa's dead; might as well find a new chick!" Flik grinned and gave her a thumbs up as he put his arms around Lorelai's waist.

"(And I owe you one as well,)" whispered Taggart, slipping Lotte a small candy bar. He saluted and quietly vanished into the shadows. Meanwhile, outside, Cleo was learning the "tricks of the trade" from Chandler.

During the events of the day, Esmeralda had discovered the true value of a song, and had since found Kasios a wonderful companion and an all-around magnificent artist. Templeton and Stallion had teamed together to scour the four corners of the globe; Meg and Viki were partners in their new adventuring schemes ("Teleportation is _so much _faster than walking!", Meg had squealed); Maas and Morgan found the true "value" of the hammer, and even poor Apple, who had dumped Quincy on Camille, found herself in a surprising embrace.

"Get OFF of him, you brat!!" Apple chuckled, and adjusted her glasses.

"Now, now, Kasumi," she berated, "you did the same thing to Master Tir with Sydonia, Viktor, and Moose. Now don't you think it's his turn?!"

"NO, I…" Needless to say, Apple's advanced mind had Kasumi cornered. The cute little geek chuckled playfully as the "young master" kissed her neck; Kasumi's face was red as well, but it was hardly out of embarrassment.

"I… WILL… KILL… YOU… BOTH!" she stated, enunciating all her words. She fumed and bolted towards Lotte. "**_YOU HAD BETTER FIX THIS, YOU LITTLE WITCH, OR ELSE I'LL TEAR OUT YOUR STOMACH AND USE IT AS A BAGPIPE!!!!!!!!!!!!!_**"

"Okay, I get it," chuckled Lotte sheepishly. She slammed her rod against both Tir and Kasumi, and forced them to look at each other. "Now you will fall in love with the first person you see!" she declared.

"Oh, young master…"

"My sweet Kasumi…"

"Darn, I thought I had something!" cursed Apple. Her cheeks grew rosy suddenly as she spied Kuromimi walk by…

"Oh, boy," groaned Lotte. "It's gonna be a LONG day!!"

By the end of the day, nearly everyone was with someone special and dear to them… while still more were just glad that Lotte hadn't attacked them. Humphrey and Jeane made a surprisingly good couple; it appeared as if not even Jeane could crack Humphrey's exterior, but that was probably what attracted her to him. Lotte had used the wand on herself one last time, just for fun, and was rewarded for her efforts when a lonesome-looking Luc passed by the hallway…

"Oh, Luuuuuuuc!" she sang. The young wizard turned around.

"Oh, it's *you*," he spat. He flinched as he saw the Wand of Love. "Eep, point that thing someplace else! The last thing I need is to fall in love with a crazed little girl like--"

BAM!!!

"…oh… wow… Lotte… what's a crazy girl like you doing here?"

"Being with you!" she giggled. Luc smiled, and took her arm in his own. Suddenly, Crowley appeared out of nowhere with Viki at his side.

"Aha!" he coughed. "My wand! And you've been misusing it all day!"

"What's an old bat like you doing with a wand of love, anyway?!" screamed Lotte. Crowley shrugged and swiped the artifact back into his possession.

"Easy," he replied. "Chandler was out of Viagra."

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The End


	15. The Best: The Tale of Eikei

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The Best: The Tale of Eikei

Once a year, the World Martial Artist's Federation held a tournament of champions. It was an old-fashioned "winner takes all" match-up that pitted the greatest fighters of the world together in a one-on-one brawl. Ever since the first tournament in Solis 1, warriors and hometown heroes had gathered at the tournament to test their mettle in an attempt to claim the prize. Many champions had gone on to become legendary names in history; others still vanished into the mists of obscurity.

Last year's champion stood proudly as he surveyed his competition. Out of the one-hundred twenty-eight contestants that had entered, only sixteen of them would proceed onto the actual matches. There were many veteran faces and a few hopeful rookies in the roster, but none of them would be able to take down Huwango.

Huwango was a mountain of a man, although in terms of height he was average. Claiming to be a samurai warrior from regions east of Zexen, Huwango was perhaps the fiercest human opponent that the tournament of champions had ever seen. For twelve straight years, Huwango had held the title of World Champion, and for good reason.

His strength was brutal and quite legendary. Rumors flew around that Huwango wrestled bears when he was ten years old and tamed warthogs when he was eight. If a weapon ever found its way in his hand, the end result would have been devastating. Huwango looked like an average traveler from the far east, with short dark hair tied up in a bun and a ceremonial kimono with intricate designs woven into it, but the people of the world knew better than to make assumptions.

Huwango couldn't help but smile as he read over the names of the people that had made it this far. His first opponent would be a blossoming boxer named Git Gowan. Git was a svelte and tall man, with a fierce hook and a fiercer stare. The well-traveled Huwango found a similarity between Git's appearance and General Hauser of Muse.

As for the other opponents, they all sounded worthy but otherwise unchallenging. To his great dismay, Huwango discovered that Morgan the Invincible Gladiator would not be participating this year, nor would the famous Ron Chan-Chan. In their stead were the twin sisters Angela and Demona--great fighters in their own stead, but hardly worth mentioning alongside their predecessors.

Sir Marc du Frene of Harmonia had came, naturally, as had Pahn of Gregminster. Huwango would have little trouble with the wiry du Frene, but Pahn was a different matter. Last year, the "Boar Warrior" had _almost_ clenched the title, but a split-second sweep-and-toss gave Huwango the edge.

Only two other contenders were veterans; everyone else was a fresh face. Lepant's prize champion, a muscle-bound military man named Grat, had made it, and the terrifying warrior Tigris also made an appearance. As for the newcomers, few names stood out to Huwango: Ucher, Kleik, Rogue, Oldsneer, W, Eikei, Rodrigo L. Seed, and Fionn. Huwango knew better than to underestimate a new face, though. After all, even he had been a rookie at one point in time.

For the 450th Tournament of Champions, the famous announcer Fu Tan Chen had been summoned. The locality would be in the courtyards of Gregminster palace, which would make it only the eighth time that the capitol would host the event. The ring was several tiles larger than usual regulation rings, which made for better fighting, and the stands were built to suit more patrons. Huwango smiled as he scanned over the presently-empty arena, and eagerly awaited the morrow, when the fighting would begin.

"Ladies and gentlemen!!" Huwango snapped out of his trance, and smiled as he saw Fu Tan Chen walk across the ring. "Welcome to the 450th annual Tournament of Champions!!" A loud roaring came from the crowd, and Fu bowed.

"From across the world we have gathered here sixteen of the most brutal fighters imaginable!" he began. The audience screamed every time Fu so much as paused. "They've all done well to make it this far, but only one of them can leave here as the True Champion!! Let's give it up for our lineup!!" The audience roared out in rapture, and Fu motioned for the fighters to present themselves.

"In the first match, we have former world boxing champion Git Gowan! His opponent will be the wiry and fast Sir Marc du Frene!

"In the second match, our illustrious returning champion! He's gone twelve glorious championships without once ever being defeated! It's the warrior Huwango!!" Huwango smiled humbly and walked onto the ring, waving at his screaming fans. His unfortunate first opponent, Rodrigo L. Cid, was a tough customer but no match for the champ.

"In the third lineup," continued Fu, "we have the devilish Demona! Her opponent will be last year's runner up champion, Pahn!

"In the fourth round, last year's world wrestling league champion, the ambiguous 'W'! His unlucky opponent is a master of the secret arts of _Hhadadokukhen_, E. Rogue!

"In the fifth match, hailing from an obscure town of farmers and merchants, the swordsman Fionn! His opponent is no stranger to the ring: that soldier from Kouan, it's General Grat!

"In the sixth match, we have the heavenly Angela! Her opponent is the aged and experienced Oldsneer, who many of you remember as retiring after he won his tenth championship! Can he make a comeback?

"In the seventh match, the ferocious warrior Tigris squares off with rookie Kleik! What sort of tricks can we expect from this unknown fighter?

"And finally, we have martial arts master Eikei going up against the heroic ham-lover from Highland! It's Ucher!!" After each and every fighter made their way to the ring, the crowds erupted in a volcanic cheer, and streams of confetti were already flying. Fu waited until the pre-game celebrations had quelled before continuing.

"LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!!!! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, I HEREBY COMMENCE THE 450TH ANNUAL TOURNAMENT OF CHAMPIONS!!!! FIGHT!"

Git Gowan and Sir Marc du Frene stood facing each other. The windless open gave way to a fairly warm day, the perfect weather for fighting. Git was better-built than Marc, but the wiry one was much more thin and flexible. Huwango didn't even bother to look at the match; he knew who would win.

Fights lasted up to thirty minutes each. If a victor was not determined after the allotted time, the decision would go to the judges. The rules were always the same: no shots to the groin, throat, or eyes; no killing; an "out" was declared if the referee counted to ten or else the fighter was thrown out of the ring.

It only took two minutes for Git Gowan to slug du Frene to the ground. The thinly boxer was tougher than he looked, but he certainly didn't pack much of a punch. Git escaped the fight with little more than a tiny bruise on his torso.

The second match lasted longer than it needed to. Huwango was desperate to see what kind of fighter his opponent was, and deliberately prolonged the battle in order to ascertain this. Poor Rodrigo actually thought he had a chance.

The third fight was the first one that actually looked close. Both Pahn and Demona were magnificent fighters, although Pahn might've had a slight upper edge in brute strength. His skills were far from perfect, and he wasn't exactly the fastest thing on land. But, twenty-five exciting minutes later, he had somehow beaten Demona to the ground.

Nobody knew who the mysterious E. Rogue woman was, but everyone recognized the man known only as "W". "W" was a huge behemoth on the outside and a simple-minded child on the inside. He had earned his wrestling title through sheer practice and training; now he wanted to clench this new title. Ms. Rogue was no pushover herself, but she was hardly strong enough to tackle "W". Only when she used her secret (and somehow legal) skill of invisibility was she able to topple the mighty champion.

Grat, on the other hand, was a washed-up soldier who was giving his skills away to the highest bidder. His current superior was the famed Lepant. Grat smashed the wily Fionn in the ground, and effortlessly won himself a trip to the quarterfinals.

Back in his youth, Oldsneer was a ferocious opponent that many thought unbeatable. An exhibition match between himself and Huwango had been set shortly after he retired; the match ended in a disappointing tie. Oldsneer was still pretty spry for his age, but he could not keep up with the gentle Angela, and was conveniently tossed outside the ring (Angela expressed great disappointment that she was unable to duel with Demona this year).

Kleik was a stranger to the ring; Tigris was famous. Kleik was a human, Tigris was… well, a tiger. Kleik was strong and fast, Tigris was powerful and ferocious. Tigris left the match without a scratch; the same could not be said of Kleik.

By the time that Eikei had defeated Ucher, the crowds were in a tizzy. Already they had seen several wonderful battles, and some swore that none of the upcoming fights could be as exciting as the previous matches. Many great and worthy warriors were progressing onward; disappointment awaited the losers. During intermission, Huwango politely introduced himself to his competition, but was surprised by one fighter in particular…

"I don't believe it," muttered the champ, examining the two runes. "This Double-Beat rune does not surprise me. You have fought well, Eikei. But the Lion's Gate Rune!! Where did you attain it!?"

"HAHAHAA!!!" Eikei chuckled heartily, and slapped Huwango on the back. Surprisingly, the champ was nearly tossed to the floor. "I won't tell you that, Huwango! Then you might get one attached as well!!" Huwango's throat constricted as he realized what sort of dangers this man now posed.

Use of runes in the tournaments were not illegal, as long as they weren't magical runes. The Double-Beat one in particular was a favorite of fighters. But no living person in the world bore the Legendary Lion's Gate rune--the rune that summoned mystical creatures for training purposes. If Eikei had it with him, and if he had been using its powers for this tournament……

Huwango could only imagine the results.

The quarterfinals got off to a powerful start as Huwango knocked Git Gowan out in less than fifteen seconds. The poor guy never stood a chance. Secretly, Huwango was rooting for Eikei--after all, he greatly desired to test the martial artist's mettle later on.

A disappointing surprise struck the arena as Pahn lost to E. Rogue. Although the strange warrior-woman was not nearly as powerful as Pahn, she still had her vanishing trick, and she had even used the legendary _Hhadadokukhen_ (roughly translated as "Dragon's Breath") attack on him. Needless to say, the spectators were irritated that a Pahn-Huwango rematch would not take place.

Angela somehow managed to squeak on by General Grat; Eikei had little difficulty in taking town Tigris. Apparently, he had been training himself against similar creatures, so he was very much prepared for whatever was thrown at him.

Eikei sighed, nursing a bump he had received from the tiger warrior. Sitting across from him in the men's locker room was Huwango, who was stretching out his calves. The two warriors had struck up a rather quiet conversation.

"I hope to see you in the finals, Eikei," said Huwango, reaching for his toes. Eikei nodded his head, deep in meditation.

"You will." Huwango smiled.

"Ahh, that's what I'd like to hear!" He sighed, and leaped to his feet. "Say, have you ever heard of this Rogue girl?"

"Nope."

"Me neither. Sounds sketchy."

"Yup."

"You know, they should ban that vanishing trick of hers. That's downright cheating."

"Don't forget the Dragon's Breath," noted Eikei. Huwango sneered.

"Yeah, and that. Hey, where do you think she learned that? I thought it was just a myth."

"Don't know." Huwango smiled broadly.

"You really aren't much of a talker now, are you?"

"Nope." The champ chuckled and finished his stretches.

"Anytime you're ready, Ms. Rogue," sang Huwango. The blue-skinned warrior-woman grinned playfully and stuck her finger in her mouth.

"I'm always ready," she replied. Eikei and Angela both covered their eyes.

__

BAM! BIFF! POW! WHACK! CRASH! BANG! SPLAT!!

"Ah…" Both Eikei and Angela sighed, and shook their heads in shame as a semi-conscious Rogue laid twitching on the mat. Huwango nudged her beaten body out of the ring, and declared victory as she fell on the grass. Eikei smiled, and helped her up.

"You were obviously not ready for this battle, miss Rogue," he said. The beaten lady chuckled weakly and rubbed her bluish body. Spots of red had erupted on places where Huwango had struck her.

"Guess you're right," she moaned. "Oh, well. I still have plenty of time before next year's tournament."

"A whole year, in fact," noted Huwango from the ring. He smiled and extended his hand. "Good match. But a true warrior is in tune with all their senses. I could smell your scent and hear you attacking me, even though my eyes could not." Rogue managed a wry smirk.

"Yes, well, I certainly _felt_ you attacking me!" Huwango broke out in riotous laughter, and soon even Fu Tan Chen was laughing with them.

"Amazing, folks!" he declared. "Looks like Huwango's returning to the finals again! Will Angela or Eikei defeat him and claim the coveted prize?! Or will Huwango go for lucky number thirteen!? There's only one way to find out!!!"

"Right, right," sighed Eikei, climbing onto the ring. "Don't need to tell me twice." The martial artist sighed, and got into a classical defensive stance. Angela pumped herself up, spread her wings, and stormed after the other warrior…

Finals. High noon. Two warriors. One would go home in disgrace, the other would march triumphantly as a champion. Ten-thousand spectators screamed for the two warriors. Fu Tan Chen blurted out the statistics. Huwango crossed his arms and grinned. Eikei returned the grin.

"Thanks," said Huwango as he gazed back at Eikei. "I really wanted to fight the bearer of the Lion's Gate rune."

"And I desired to fight the champ," replied Eikei, cracking his knuckles.

"You sound confident," noted Huwango.

"No more than you do," retorted the other fighter. They both smiled, the gong sounded, and the crowd went berserk. Two master fighters got into fighting stance.

"This should prove interesting," noted Huwango, a bit of hope in his voice.

"Just be quiet and fight!" roared Eikei. Huwango grinned, donned a "_if you say so_" look, and dashed forward. Eikei sidestepped the charge and slammed his knee in the other man's gut, promptly halting his actions. Huwango bowled over slightly and grinned.

"That's more like it!" he groaned. His arms went for Eikei's neck, and he slammed the warrior onto the hard mat with a THUD. Huwango leaped out of the hold and awaited Eikei's counterattack. Nothing happened.

"One… Two…" Huwango cursed out loud, already feeling sore over his easy victory. As the referee counted towards ten, the crowd began to boo and hiss over the bland action they had seen.

"Five… Six…"

"Get up, fool!" spat Huwango, tapping Eikei's unresponsive arm. "I didn't hit you that--"

__

BOOM!!

Huwango choked and lurched forward as Eikei buried his fist in the other man's gut. With blinding speed, the holder of the Lion's Gate Rune got to his feet and gave a very sharp kick to Huwango's shoulders. This sent the champ flying halfway across the area, and Eikei dashed off after him in hopes of a victory. The fans ate it up.

Huwango recovered quickly and got to his feet. He charged Eikei as the other man ran towards him, and knocked his intestines loose as he bulldozed at the man head-first. Eikei slammed into the ground, his lungs screaming out loud, and he coughed out something he probably shouldn't have.

"Impressive," said Huwango as Eikei coughed. He smiled, feeling the reward and pride of a job well done. The referee resumed his count… Eikei suddenly swept at Huwango's feet, sending the warrior plummeting towards the ground. Huwango caught himself and made a counter-sweep; Eikei quickly leaped over it and gave a roundhouse kick at Huwango's head.

After the brief brawl, both warriors locked in a blurry of combat: fists flew, legs sliced through the air, shouts puffed out of the men's mouths, screams erupted from the audience, and not even the great Fu Tan Chen could keep up with their movements.

Eikei finally found an open spot in Huwango's defenses and smacked him a good one with his fist. He scored another shot with the help of the Double Beat Rune, and this sent the champ flying. Eikei leaped through the air with inhuman grace, and slammed his elbow into the ring just as Huwango bolted away. He did not scream as his arm broke through the hard stone tiles of the ring.

Huwango saw a split second of opportunity, and tackled Eikei as he was recovering from the assault on the ring. Eikei was struck hard, and was pushed near the edge of the ring. Soon his mind came to him again, and he used Huwango's momentum against him by spinning around and tossing the champ outside of the ring.

"**_VICTORY!!!!!!! VICTORY!!! EIKEI HAS DONE THE IMPOSSIBLE BY DEFEATING TWELVE-TIME CHAMPION HUWANGO!!!!!! GIVE IT UP FOR EIKEI!!!!_**" The hysteric crowd didn't need to be reminded twice, and a cry went up from the stands that was so loud, it could have been heard across the entire world. A riot nearly occurred as streams of confetti and ribbons washed over the arena, and hundreds of roses soon plopped on the ground.

Huwango coughed, shocked to find himself out of the ring, and quickly stood to his feet. For perhaps the first time in his fighting career, the crowds weren't cheering for him. He crossed his arms and let out a laugh, and climbed back into the ring to congratulate the man that had defeated him.

"Well done, champ!!" yelled Huwango over the berserk crowd. "It seems as if thirteen was my unlucky number after all! Well, I guess we can't win them all! You've earned this!!" And, as all former champions did, Huwango removed his championship belt and eagerly handed it over to Eikei. Their arms shout up to the sky in a victory cry, but it was Eikei's hand that was proudest. It would take days for it to dawn on him that he had beaten a hitherto-unbeaten adversary; perhaps longer if he considered the fact that he was now champ of the world.

"I have one question for you, my worthy opponent!!" shouted Huwango as Eikei pulled the belt around his waist. "Just who are you, anyway?" Eikei looked at the former mountainous champ, and grinned with victory.

"The best," he answered. Huwango smiled.

"Good answer! HA, I'd second that notion!"

Five years later, the champ would participate in the Liberation War.

****

The End


	16. Silent but Deadly: The Tale of Sydonia

****

Silent but Deadly: The Tale of Sydonia

__

Chained up in here like a freak on display,

Rattling, tattling, against cords, against rogues,

Slobbering, dribbling, acting like a perfect gentleman.

"Come here", they said, "and see the magnificent Sydonia!! Watch and be amazed as he dazzles you with the Great Distance Teleportation skills! Be amazed! This man uses no Rune in his skill! There is no trick! No smoke, no mirror! Come, allow yourself to be convinced."

Tap, tap, tap… that was his cue.

He'd come out, without saying a word. Laughed once. Vanished. Appeared behind some random audience member he had chosen. Smiled and laughed again. Vanished. Appeared right back where he started. Laughed one more time. Applause. Many people tried to see through the trick. He would dart in and out of impossible places. He remembered the Torture Box, and the Fish Tank. The Jar was the worst of them all. Then they'd be convinced, and he's smile and laugh again.

Tap. That was his cue to leave. He didn't take any of the money. That was left up to the ringmaster. He just vanished again, back inside his tent, and didn't say a word. He never talked--well, not usually. He'd just laugh and chuckle, a brief smile at that, and would do that vanishing trick again.

Heh.

He stayed there for awhile. Nobody knows why. But there are plenty of people who know why he left. Somebody saved him. There was this man, he saw the act. He saw the creepy grin, and the vanishing trick. He witnessed it all, and then like a true bandit, he went and stole Sydonia. Of course, Sydoina was very grateful for the rescue. So grateful, he spoke to his benefactor. Said he owed him a debt. Someday he might even pay it off. Became a bandit. Fought a war. That sort of thing.

At night, he would still see images of the circus. He'd see the Siamese Twins, joined at the hip. He'd see the seven-foot-tall giant, and the bald, burly strongman. There was dog boy, and lizard man, and seal kid. One person could bend their body into unusual shapes. There was this pretty girl there that only fellow freaks liked. She was very gorgeous, but she had been born with a tail, and fangs, and stripes, and pointed fuzzy ears. Sydoina liked her too. There was also this incredibly simple man, who just sat and stared all day, but his memory was completely perfect--so perfect, he could remember what he had had for breakfast on any given day.

"What did you have to eat on your thirteenth birthday?"

"Eggs," he'd say. The person who asked that question would leave, come back ten years later, and would ask another question.

"How were they cooked?" they asked.

"Fried," replied the man. Amazing. And Sydonia was one of them, until he was kidnapped. But aside from leaving a few scant friends, he was glad to go. They did not treat him well in that circus.

"Heh." A small dagger was pointed in the direction of the soldier. Nobody else said a word.

"What do you want?" asked the man. "What, you want my money?" The man with the dagger nodded and grinned. The soldier saw the knife, and handed over a sack of money.

"Heh," sneered the bandit. "All of it." The soldier frowned, but didn't move. Suddenly, the man wielding the dagger vanished from view. The soldier never saw him again--but that was perfectly understandable, considering that three seconds later, he had a tiny dagger stuck in his back.

"Rotten Imperial dogs," snorted Varkas. "They've been snooping around here too long. Sydonia, you should be more sociable to your victims."

"Heh," replied Sydonia, fishing out a tubful of coins and jewels. "Why bother?"

"They might like a little friendliness before being robbed." Sydonia gave a smirk and crossed his arms.

"Heh… Imperials?" Varkas smiled and chuckled.

"You've got a point there."

__

Disappeared.

Even Varkas never saw a trace of him--but then again, he was rather busy guarding the border. Of course, Sydonia had went back to the circus. To retireve his friends, that is.

"Heh."

"What!? YOU!! What are you doing here!!"

"Heh." Slice, cut, vanish, blood, heh, slash, vanish, choking, heh, chains, freedom. Fire, and lots of it. No more circus. The freaks were free, free to live in a society that rejected them anyway.

"What now, Sydonia?" asked the giant.

"Heh." He pointed his head in an eastern direction.

"From one who has observed Sydonia…" said Willy.

"We concur that he wishes to travel east with us," said Billy. Sydonia smiled and began walking away. More fire. The freaks followed him.

A journey. So many unusual people, many who would normally be classified as demi-humans. Some were demi-humans, and were doing a good job denying it. Some were completely human, and just had unique abilities--like the boy with fourteen fingers.

And Sydonia. Can't forget him.

"Heh." Kasumi sneered and made a face, but Sydonia kept his smirk.

"You're hiding something!" she insisted. "And I won't stop bugging you until you tell me what it is!" Sydonia shrugged, vanished away, and left the poor ninja alone.

"Crud!" she fumed. "How does he DO that! It can't be a shinobi technique!"

__

"Five-hundred potch." Kasumi screamed and leaped up in the air. Turning around, her face put on a mask of relief as she saw the enigmatic Kage standing behind her.

"Whew, didn't hear you sneak up on me," she sighed. "You must be _really_ good! Guess I have a long way to go, eh?" Kage nodded his head.

"Improving," he noted. Kasumi smiled.

"Thanks. Oh, what was that about the five-hundred potch?"

"The amount I'm charging to tell you his secret," said Kage. Kasumi frowned, gave the older ninja a face, and dug into her pockets.

"I earned every bit of it myself," she said, as if the amount of money needed an alibi. "So I hope it's worth it." Kage silently took the money and placed it in a sack. He turned around, and disappeared.

"Follow," he said, and before long Kasumi had left as well.

__

"We're here."

"Where?"

"Here." A pause. "East. Home." Sydonia could be so ambiguous sometimes--nay, all the time.

"Oh, I see." The girl with the tail paused, scanning around the area. It was… very suitable for a home. A large log cabin, abandoned for eons, sat in the middle of the woods. It had enough beds to suit every one of Sydonia's traveling companions.

"Heh." Sydonia grinned that mysterious smile of his, and approached the girl with the tail. People called her Felona, since she looked so much like a cat (the fuzzy ears and stripes didn't help much), but her real name was Antoinette. Sydonia just called her "Heh".

"Yes?" asked Felona. Sydonia smiled and touched her smooth face. With the exception of her arms, her waist, and parts of her legs, Felona had no more hair than the average human being. What excess hair she did have fell under the category of fur. She was very exotic-looking, but despite her wild looks, she was actually a very timid and insecure creature.

"Happy?" asked Sydonia. Felona smiled weakly.

"Yeah, I guess. Hey, you gonna stay with us?" Sydonia kept his smirk, but shrugged. He rarely stopped smiling, though he was hardly ever happy. Usually that smile was meant to creep out patrons and viewers, or just people in general. Felona had seen Sydonia genuinely smile only twice, and she had never seen him without the smirk.

"Dunno," replied he. Felona frowned in thought and cocked her head. She looked very adorable just then, and as always Sydonia smiled.

"At least for tonight," she said. She got a nod in return.

"Heh, yeah. Tonight."

Kasumi began drooping, and her head slowly lowered. Her eyelids shut, and her mouth became dry. With a snap, she jolted awake and kept her gaze on Sydonia.

"You've gotta fall asleep sometime!" she stated. "I've never seen you sleep, not even once, and we've been living in this castle for over a month now!" Sydonia grinned, keeping his arms crossed and his eyes open. To be frank, he never remembered the last time he had slept, either. For some very bizarre reason, Sydonia didn't need to sleep as much as normal people--maybe about three times a month or so.

"Heh, you're persistent," he said. Kasumi groaned, took a bite out of her chocolate bar, and slapped her face lightly.

"I can stay up as long as you can," she said. Apparently, the cute little ninja girl had nothing better to do.

"Heh, we'll see." Sydonia kept smiling, and one slow hour later, he easily won the battle. Carefully, he plucked the ninja off the floor, teleported them both to a certain room, and left her sleeping on a certain bed. With a smile of mischief, he vanished from the room and wondered what Master Tir would think if he woke up to find Kasumi in his bed.

"Heh, he'll thank me later," whispered Sydonia to himself.

__

"Heh, so long." And just like that, Sydonia left his friends. He vanished away from the log cabin, and never looked back on it again. When he was a good distance away, he sighed and started walking like a normal person would.

Surviving on poor hapless people that wandered around with too much money in their possession, Sydonia made his way up to the very Top of the World, where no sailor had been to, nor no explorer ever visited. The Top of the World was frozen solid, with an icy wind tearing away and a frosty soil beneath everything. Sydonia wandered around there for a good five minutes before nearly freezing to death.

Then, for no reason, he vanished away from there and decided to pay the Far Eastern lands a visit. Here, there flew rumors of a great race of beautiful Amazon women who commanded dragons, and a race of beings who had blue skin instead of pink, brown, or yellow. Sydonia knew that both existed, for he had seen them while on his travels.

"Heh." Sydonia smiled, pacing around his small room with Anji and his crew watching him. Varkas was picking at his nails, everyone else was becoming dizzy.

"So you gonna do it?" asked Leonardo. Sydonia grinned.

"Heh, maybe."

"Then get it over with!"

"Heh, just wait."

"Nothing fancy, now," warned Varkas, still picking at his nail. "Just remember what happened the last time you did this."

"Heh, how could I forget?" sneered Sydonia happily. "Heh, straight into the women's bath. Heh, but I was too quick for them. Didn't see me at all." And with that, Sydonia demonstrated his vanishing trick to the pirates. Needless to say, they were quite amazed.

"Incredible!" gasped Kanak, seeing the thief dematerialize. "How does he do it?"

"Not even I know that," grumbled Varkas, flicking away some dirt. "But if you're ever in a town called Radat, you can find out."

"Why there?" asked Anji. Varkas frowned.

"Ever heard of a guy named Richmond?"

"Can't say I have," came the reply. Varkas smiled.

"Just ask for him. Oh, but be careful. His investigations come at a price."

"Pirates don't pay people," snarled Leonardo, "they _rob_ them!"

"A wise proverb," pointed Varkas. Just then, Sydonia reappeared with an article of clothing in his arm. For a brief period, the four men in the room stared at him.

"Dare I ask where you've been?" mumbled Varkas. Sydonia grinned triumphantly, waved the cloth, and disappeared without a trace. Suddenly, a piercing scream could be heard, and all four of the men looked at each other in horror.

"Poor Lady Sonya," sighed Varkas. "She never knew what hit her."

"Good riddance!" sneered Anji, who was already outside looking for her. He cackled as he saw her screaming by, and figured that a kick in the guts was worth the price for the entertainment.

__

The last person that saw Sydonia--that is, before he ventured off into the Nameless Lands--was a simple peddler of wares. He had seen the man but briefly, and even then was unsure as to who it was. But a distinct "Heh" sound could be heard, and an eerie proverb followed it. This last saying assured the peddler that the person he had seen was Sydonia.

"Heh. They say that no man can tame a tongue, and they say that silence is golden. Tell me, then, how many poor people do you think there are in the world?"

Currently, there are rumors that are flying around Radat that Sydonia is living in the lost city of El Dorado.

His secrets followed him to the grave.

****

The End


	17. In the Rough: The Tale of Rubi

****

In the Rough: The Tale of Rubi

Alone, surrounded by trees and the sunlight and the air,

I wander.

Bow and arrow in hand, weary sandals covering my sole,

Across rivers.

Wind whipping my evergreen hair, whispering a name--

Her name.

I pretend to ignore it and continue my journey across the land,

Lone Elf.

I step over the raging river, terrible and magnificent and firm,

Like me.

I smile as I see worthy game, and my omnipotent arrow flies true--

Hunger dies.

Leaving bones to the scavengers, I wash up and continue my journey

To nowhere.

Further into the forest, into its heart, into its soul, into its mind I go,

Why not?

I remember, ages ago, or perhaps it was yesterday when I saw her,

That _human_.

She was frightened of me, and ran screaming into the forest,

This forest.

I didn't pay her any mind, nor my destination, nor my situation--

Red Eyes.

Outcast, reject, hermit, isolated, solitary, alone, by myself, nobody

Loved me.

Of course, I cared not for such a cruelty--bah, I laughed at Fate and

Her devices.

I twisted a path through the woods and thrived because Nature

Desired it.

Though even now I can't comprehend why one woman ran and another

Embraced me.

It was the way of things, of course, and I was not one to question these

Mighty powers!

Abandoning the forest, I resumed my travels until I came to

The end.

Past, future, bah what a waste--I did good by not thinking of

My fate.

Bow in hand, quiver on back, I emerged from the woods and

Resumed traveling.

I came upon an empty cottage and lived here for a month, but

Left hastily.

Previous owners, what a fool I had been to stay there so long--

Fought them.

Left the cabin, did I, for further pursuits and greater destinies--

Wet blood.

Brought on by the rain and their injuries, to be sure; victor was I,

So empty.

Ignoring, I resumed my journey, across valleys and the great

Freezing mountains.

Fortune and glory evade and embrace my spirit and soul, it

Sickens me.

I cannot exist on such terms, yet still I wander through these

Barren lands.

I remembered the wind howling, like a specter at my side, howling

For her.

I ignored the ghost and came across a vast ocean of sand, the deadly

Burning desert.

Trapped now I was, between past and future--into a vortex of Now

Was I.

One sole stepped into the sand, another soul followed close by, am I

Entering Hell?

Perhaps; it felt as such, and devils and demons mocked my long journey

To nowhere.

Faint, thirsty, tired, exhausted, on fire was I, and demons kept laughing--

I continued.

I stumbled as I emerged from the purity of the sand and the dunes, glad that asylum

I found.

An empty oasis greeted me, one with green trees with lush fruit and water clear as

A diamond.

I stayed and refreshed myself there, probably for years; now finally I was alone, buried

Beneath sand.

Eventually I would leave and continue my journey--naturally, for T'was my position

The rough.

Death hated me as always, and the great Lady Luck smiled on my

Accursed fortune!

Desired to win for long, I did not--why I even journeyed onward was

Beyond me.

Still I kept walking; to where I knew not; from what I didn't know,

Red Stars.

Night, day, summer, autumn, winter, seasons, months, time

Stared icily.

I smiled as I came to the sea--never before have I seen such a marvel,

Beautiful wonder.

Dipping my soles in, I felt my soul wash clean from gracious Nature--

She was!

T'is true--ones such as myself do not deserve such redemption from

This mistress.

And so, in joyous revelry and happiness, I gave a warm thanks to the sea,

My lady.

I walked across the beaches, I smiled as I rested from my journey; stumbled on

The diamond.

Lost, tripped, fell, claimed it as my own. Great piece of rock that I found and

I lost.

I cursed my own ineptitude--such worthy treasures would yield great price! But I

Never found.

Disappointed, I shrugged it off and continued my travels, the moon giving off a

Dead glimmer.

My journey would have no end, since it had no beginning, I was always escaping

My lady.

Fate, the cruelest of all mistresses, toyed with my spirit and shattered it,

Broken jewel.

A waste it was not--did love my mistress, I did, as I owed her much, just not

Shattered hopes.

Into the valley I sank, arrows exhausted and bow rusted from use, my skills

Lost forever.

My ruby eyes still radiated with an all-too familiar glow, that haunting eternal

Dull shine.

Escaping from an unproven enemy, I weaved into the valley and became

Eternally lost.

A lush Eden greeted me where two mountains kissed, so it was here that I

Stopped traveling.

Settling down, I retired my bow and arrow, and rested on the grass thinking.

I died.

****

The End

Author's note: Just your everyday run of the mill poem, right? Well, take a closer look and see if you can't unravel the subtle message that Rubi is more or less conveying. There's something much deeper behind this tale of adventure, but all I can say is pay attention to every other line. Hope you enjoyed both "versions" of this!


	18. The Life and Times of an Independent Per...

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The Life and Times of an Independent Performer: The Tale of Marco

There once was a boy named Marco,

Who spent all his time in the parko,

Until one fine day, he got up and said "Hey!

I don't need to live in the darko!"

So he gathered his bags and he left,

But the parcels he just could not heft!

So instead of the bags, he balled up some rags,

And invented a game--how deft!

"Find the coin!" he'd say to the crowd--

Though usually his voice was quite loud--

He soon grew quite rich, found his own lil' niche;

T'was many a people he wowed!

To Rockland his travels did go,

Where he saw a young man, and Oh!

A marvelous treat, to find someone so neat!

Too bad your income's quite low!

The young man he met yet again,

So he asked him to play til' a win

The young lad was hot, and lose he did not

(Poor Marco thought losing a sin!)

So Marco tagged long' with the lad,

Expanded his empire a tad,

Til' the war had been fought and the evil was wrought

Now his adventures were over, how sad!

He thus led a vigorous life,

A long one, with hardly a strife!

But if you see him around, hear this advice oh-so sound,

Escape if you value you life!

Because HE WILL RIP YOU OFF!

****

The End


	19. More Like a Wise Guy: The Tale of Gaspa...

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More Like a Wise Guy: The Tale of Gaspar

(Scene: Throne room of a foreign kingdom. One of the Three Wise Guys, Gaspar, is seated on a throne. Illustrious Soothsayers #1-3 surround him; attendants are scattered about.)

Gaspar: What business is this?! Are we doing a play??

Soothsayer #2: What do you mean, your worship?

Gaspar: This idiotic script format!

Attendant: What of it, milord?

Gaspar: What is its purpose? What is it doing here? What was the deal with that "Scene" bit earlier on?

Soothsayer #3: Uh, "Scene" bit, sire?

Gaspar: ……

Soothsayer #1: ……

Attendant: ……

Gaspar: None of this is making sense.

Soothsayer #2: Shall we start from the beginning, milord?

Gaspar: Please do! I was in a gambling house until recently! How on Earth did I get in this throne room?

Soothsayer #1: You had to take a dump, sire? (Gaspar promptly executes him)

Gaspar: You know what I mean!

Soothsayer #2: From the beginning, it is!

(Brief monologue)

Soothsayer #2: To explain the whole plot as plainly and quickly as possible, you, Gaspar, are one of the Three Wise Guys, one of the revered rulers of lands foreign. And my, that was a long sentence!

Gaspar: ……

Soothsayer #3: ……

Soothsayer #2: Anyway, we have come here bearing prophecy of the Messiah!

Gaspar: The what?

Soothsayer #2: You know!! The Messiah! The child born of a virgin!

Gaspar: ……

Soothsayer #2: Descendant of David? Born in Bethlehem?

Gaspar: …………I honestly have no idea as to what you're talking about.

Soothsayer #3: Listen, your name's Gaspar, right?

Gaspar: Yeah.

Soothsayer #3: And isn't one of the Three Wise Men's names Gaspar?

Gaspar: Huh? Uh, you lost me. (awkward pause)

Soothsayer #3: Ugh, never mind, sire. Anyway, we have come here to guide you to the Messiah, so that you may bring him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

Attendant: Uh, we can't spare the gold.

Soothsayer #3: And why not?!

Attendant: Because some doofus ordered a golden statue built in his likeness! (everyone turns to see the pure-gold statue of Gaspar. The attendant is promptly executed for calling Gaspar a doofus)

Gaspar: Jerk!

Soothsayer #2: What about the frankincense?

Soothsayer #3: Frankenstein?

Soothsayer #2: No, frankincense.

Soothsayer #3: Frank n' beans?

Soothsayer #2: …Frankincense.

Soothsayer #3: Oh, I get it. Frank's incense.

Soothsayer #2: No, _frankincense._ As in, perfumes.

Soothsayer #3: …You're giving him perfumes for his birthday? That's insane!

Soothsayer #2: …uh, huh… Yeah, well, we sorta have to.

Gaspar: The stores are out.

All: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Attendant: Okay. Does anybody know what myrrh is?

Gaspar: No.

Soothsayer #2: No.

Soothsayer #3: No.

Attendant: No.

Attendant: No.

Attendant: No.

Attendant: No.

Attendant: No.

Attendant: No.

Attendant: No.

Attendant: No.

Gaspar: How many attendants do I have?

Attendant: About 50,000.

Gaspar: *sigh* This may take awhile. Okay, who in here knows what myrrh is?

Attendant: Not me.

Soothsayer #2: Not me.

Soothsayer #3: Not me.

Attendant: Not me.

Gaspar: ……All right, I guess we can skip on that. Well, what _do_ we have to give? (everyone searches their belongings)

Soothsayer #3: Oh! I have a nice shrubbery!

Gaspar: I guess that'll have to do. Anyone have anything else?

Attendant: Uh, I have a rock.

Gaspar: ……

Both Soothsayers: ……

Gaspar: …Good enough. We need one more thing.

Soothsayer #2: Will this autographed Siegfried & Roy poster work?

Gaspar: Eh, sure. What Messiah could pass up those, uh, valuable presents?

All: ……………………………….

Gaspar: A-HEM!! Well, uh… Hey, what am I doing again?

All: *groan*

(Scene: Gaspar is riding on a "camel" and has already been joined by his fellow Wise Guys, Melchior and Balthasar)

Melchior: You too, huh?

Gaspar: What?

Balthasar: Got suckered into this little Messianic deal, eh?

Gaspar: ……Yeah.

Melchior: It sucks, I know. I used to be making weapons in Zexen before all this happened.

Balthasar: And I was a half-crazed scientist moping around Viper Manor! All of a sudden, we get these Soothsayers and attendants volunteering to take us to see some baby!

Melchior: As if we needed to see some brat in diapers!

Gaspar: I heard he was this "Messiah" guy.

Melchior: Whoops, did I say brat? I meant, uh, great man. Yeah, great man.

Balthasar: So anyway… here we are, riding on these so-called camels, through this really nasty desert… And we're following this real bright star that's probably just some superhero emergency signal that got left on.

Melchior: Looks like the Crouton Man signal.

Balthasar: Hey, you're right!! (the Wise Guys take a closer look at the "star" and realize that it is in the shape of a crouton. Disappointed, they turn their camels around and head back home. However, _another_ signal is in the sky)

Gaspar: Lemme guess: The Thang signal?

Balthasar: Yup.

Melchior: This may take awhile.

(Scene: The Wise Guys finally make it to the little town of Bethlehem and resist the urge to burst out in song)

Melchior: Ah, we made it! We're here! We're in the little town of Bethlehem!

Gaspar: Not anymore. I think we just passed it.

Melchior: Already?!

Gaspar: Yeah.

Balthasar: But we just entered it!

Gaspar: It's THAT little!!

Balthasar and Melchior: *groan*

(Scene: away in a manger. By now, the fellows are finding it harder and harder to not burst out in song.)

Gaspar: Looks like we're here!

Melchior: We're _somewhere._ That's progress, at least.

Balthasar: Hey, guys?

Both: Yeah?

Balthasar: Weren't we looking for the 7-11?

Both: Yeah.

Balthasar: And does this look like a 7-11? (points to the manger. A long pause)

Both: ………No. Oops.

Gaspar: How do you suggest we go about arriving at a 7-11?

Melchior: I know! Let's ask the Three Wise Guys!

Gaspar: The who?

Melchior: The Three Wise Guys! They're supposed to be the smartest people in the land!

Balthasar: Where are they now?

Melchior: In lands foreign!

Balthasar: Oh. Are they supposed to be around here soon?

Melchior: Yes, very. Let's wait until they get here.

(And so our heroes wait for the Three Wise Men. They never come)

Gaspar: They're not coming!

Melchior: Bummer.

Shepard: Hey, you three?

All: Us?

Shepard: Yes, you! Aren't YOU three the Three Wise Guys?

Gaspar: …I think so.

Melchior: Whoops! Guys, WE'RE the three wise guys!

Balthasar: HEY!! You didn't capitalize our name!

Melchior: What?

Balthasar: Didn't you learn anything? You always capitalize important thingies!

Melchior: Like This?

Balthasar: Exactly!

Melchior: Ok, Okay. I'm So Sorry. Anyway, Where Were We?

Balthasar: Not like that, idiot.

Melchior: sorry.

Shepard: …you three are WEIRD!! (he runs away verily)

Gaspar: What does verily mean?

Melchior: Who knows and who cares!?

Balthasar: We need to depart. (they depart)

(Scene: A 7-11. After departing, Our Illustrious Heroes trade in the autographed Siegfried & Roy poster for a six-pack of generic soda, a bug-zapper, and some beef jerky. They suddenly realize that they need to visit the Messiah, and leave the 7-11 hastily. After several hours of travel, we three kings finally return to the little town of Bethlehem, away in a manger, in a silent night--they came upon a midnight clear!)

Gaspar: For the middle of the night, it's awfully clear out here! (Melchior suddenly has a heart attack from the cholesterol in the beef jerky)

Balthasar: Whoops, Melchior's dead. Oh no.

Gaspar: I think we need to pull over and ask for directions. I hope we don't get the wrong manger.

Balthasar: OR the wrong Messiah!

(Scene: A toll booth. A police officer kindly gives the Three Wise Guys Minus One directions. They give him their snake in return, and the officer promptly hauls their carcasses in jail)

(Scene: A jailhouse. Gaspar is playing the harmonica while Balthasar is banging on the bars with a coffee mug. A very large inmate is "checking out" Gaspar)

Balthasar: Let me OUT of here! You can't do this to me! I'm a Wise Guy!

Warden: Yes, well, we all knew that!

Balthasar: What?! How dare you!

Gaspar: Just shut up. This whole day has been weird for me.

Inmate: Hey, cutie…

Gaspar: **Touch me one more time and you die!**

Inmate: Oooh, feisty! (telephone rings)

All: THE GOVERNOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Warden: Hello? Yes? Mr. Governor, sir? Yes? Yes?? NO!!! NO WAY!!! Yes? YES?? NO!! No… Yes? YES!! Yes, yes, YES!!! Oh, no!! NO!! Yeah… yeah, hold on. Hey, which one of you morons is Gaspar?

Gaspar: I am he.

Warden: Okay, you're free to go. Seems that Balthasar was the one who gave me that snake. (he unlocks the jail cell and lets Gaspar go free)

Balthasar: But what about me?

Warden: It's the electric chair for you, bucko!

Balthasar: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Scene: The Manger. Gaspar is all alone, how sad…)

Gaspar: Whew, finally made it! (he approaches the baby Messiah) Hey, kid, what's up?

Jesus: Not much. Hangin'. You?

Gaspar: Whoa, a talking baby!!!!

Jesus: Yeah. The perks of being the Son of God. I just found out yesterday that I can qualify for my Harvard Degree, and I can't even crawl yet.

Gaspar: Sweet! Uh, anyway, I come bearing gifts… or gifting bears… Either way! (Gaspar gives the Messiah the rock)

Jesus: Oh. A rock. How… thoughtful.

Gaspar: Yeah, well, uh, it wasn't my idea. Oh, and I also have this. (he gives the Messiah a bug zapper and Balthasar's coffee mug)

Jesus: ……What am I supposed to do with this stuff?

Gaspar: ……Well, you kill bugs with the bug zapper.

Jesus: Ahuh.

Gaspar: And you, uh, drink from the coffee mug.

Jesus: Yeah… Uh, I don't think that coffee is invented yet.

Gaspar: Neither are 7-11s, but what's to stop us?!

Jesus: Amen, brother! (they do a high-five)

"Huh, what!! …What the…?" Gaspar grunted, staring down at his empty chinchiriron bowl. He sighed, wiped his forehead, and breathed out in relief. "Just a stupid dream," he reasoned.

Inmate: Well now, I wouldn't say that!! *wink*

Gaspar: Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!

****

The End…?

Closing comments: Okay, for all you readers out there who couldn't tell, this beast was a PARODY of the story of the Three Wise Men and their visit to the Messiah. Remember "The Life of Brian"? It's just like that.


	20. Audible Beauty: The Tale of Kasios

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Audible Beauty: The Tale of Kasios

Author's Note: This is my first (and hopefully last) attempt at a songfic, so bear with me.

__

A Psalm dedicated to my dear friend Humphrey, who is often my crutch and inspiration

When I first saw you sitting there,

With that look on your face

I wanted to show you something wonderful

But everything seemed so out of place.

So instead of walking over to you,

And making myself look like such a fool,

I toiled away burning the midnight oil

And worked out a song for you to rule.

Now I know that it's nothing special,

I wanted it to reach your very soul

It came from beneath the very bottom of my heart

And from the emptiness that's left in the hole…

So here's a little number just for you

I made it up as I watched you gaze

I hope you enjoy it; please listen to what I say

And allow me to get lost in your face.

__

finis

__

A gothic ballad dedicated to Pesmerga, for without his audience I might not make it through those dark times

I'm kissing up to the blackness

I'm hugging close to the seas

I search for you

Get on my knees

Beg for your touch; release me!

Release me!

I hate it here, don't know where to go,

I wanna die, don't wanna know

So release me! Fill me up with your fear!

Release me! Hold me close O my dear!

Cuz' I wanna, yes I wanna, feel the darkness,

Feel the darkness,

And I wanna, yes I wanna, know the pain,

The pain of the night!

So release me!

Whether on devil's or angel's wings!

Release me!

Make me die I'm gonna sing

Release me!

Touch me hold me til' I fall

Release me!

Then ask if I wanna give My All!

I'll concede, I'll let you Have

That One Possession,

Just take and grab!

I want the night, bring on the grave,

I'm not a schoolgirl that you can save!

So release me!

And let me fall where I may!

Release me!

In a puddle I'll stay

And if you wanna, yeah if you wanna,

Have Me again,

All you got to do is… is… is…………

__

finis

__

A love sonnet requested by my dear friend Sheena--may your pursuits bear fruit

She's ev'ything that a man could want…

I don't know how to say…

Another beauty for the beast falling down off an inf'nite chasm of eternal pain,

The man by her side says it's far too late; kicks her in the shin…

Licking up her skin feeling ev'ry cell within his grimy grasp,

He doesn't know that she's armed but he swears his love using inches anyway!

It is not right there is something wrong

Down by their house.

It is not right there is something wrong.

Missy Belle Agnes lose your love

Missy Belle Agnes lose your love

Missy Belle Agnes lose your love

Missy Belle Agnes lose your love

Then you'll see, I'm a new man!

Then you'll see, I'm a new man!

Should I hold you in my hands

And squeeze you gently by the fire's side

You'll know that I can do you no wrong!

Because, oh you'll see, I'm a new man!

Oh you'll see, I'm a new man!

Oh you'll see, I'm a new--yes I am!

Man!

__

finis

__

Personal thoughts of balladeer Kasios as she watches lovers embrace in Toran Castle

The personal thoughts of balladeer Kasios

As she watches lovers embrace in Toran Castle

The personal viewpoint of one like a siren

Does she tell you anything in the songs that she sings?

Do you know what she knows,

Do you feel how she grows?

Oh the personal opinion of this lady bard

Do they reflect what you already know?

Yet the personal story of songwriter maiden

Will reveal nothing but the truth that we know.

Ask, ask, yield nothing for her,

Ask, ask, she'll sing you a song…

The personal thoughts of balladeer Kasios

Can you see them forming as she plucks on her lyre?

Oh the personal ideals of one mournful lover

Can you tell what she wants by the tear in her eye?

__

finis

A song for the conclusion

All things must pass

All things must leave

All things must dry up and die up and wither away

All things must pass

All things must fade

All things must end their life mourning by morning til' sunset arrives!

This is the truth

Remember dear children that all things must pass.

****

The End


	21. Blind Faith: The Tale of Morgan

****

Blind Faith: The Tale of Morgan

I want you to do a favor for me. Close your eyes for a few seconds, just a few. Go ahead, right now. Did you see that darkness? Did you see that spot of black that covered your entire vision? Now imagine you're like that always. Imagine that the light has gone out from your eyes, and your sight is completely gone. Does that frighten you? Well, if so, then you already have a fairly good idea as to what I go through every day.

I promised myself that I would never forget how I lost my vision. I started out as a gladiator for the queendom of Falena. I was known as an invincible warrior--I was quite literally the best in the land, perhaps even the world. I was NEVER beaten. Then, because of this "unfair" advantage I seemed to have, my eyes were gouged out and I was blinded from then on. Ha, that didn't hinder me in the least. In fact, I think I improved because of my blindness.

But that is all in the past, now. I was, shall I say, removed from that monarchy a few years later. I found my way to the Scarlet Moon Empire and the world-famous Qlon Temple, where I took a vow of priesthood in front of Master Fukien. Since then, I have dedicated my life in a pursuit of that which is holy and pure. I suppose I became a monk just then, so even while under study in the Temple I managed to keep my fighting style active.

My services were needed for a brief period of time, so when asked, I left my studies and journeyed towards lake Toran with Master Fukien, Hugo, Zen, and Crowley (imagine several people's surprise as they discovered that he had been living in that cave all this time! I, of course, knew of his existence). My time spent at Lake Toran was short but memorable; I improved my skills alongside fellow martial artists such as Eikei, Pahn, et cetera.

But believe it or not, it was after my participation in the Liberation War that my adventures truly began. Let me emphasize.

Shortly after the war, I came back to Qlon Temple, Fukien and Crowley at my side. Hugo was off recording the exploits of the heroes of the war, and Zen had remained behind to tend to the gardens, so other than Master Fukien, I would be alone. This bothered me little, for with my blindness, I never truly desired a large company with me anyway.

For awhile after my return, I continued studying the ancient holy scrolls that Hugo had kept. These scrolls documented a horrifying war against an ancient evil, one so old it dated back to the time when Harmonia was unpopulated. In the scrolls, the ancient evil had held a dark hand over much of the world, which was still in its infancy. Having an entire planet under one's thumb is horrible enough; having a planet with a youthful species populating it was downright terrifying.

This evil, which for convenience's sake I shall call Ma'handaa'Sythe'Tyiarrhe (roughly translated as "Child of Curses"), existed on this planet long before the invention of the wheel. Where it came from or why it desired destruction was a complete mystery, but none of that mattered then. Sythe (really, did you expect me to refer to it using its entire name?) was a terrible seed that had been buried in the grounds of hatred, and for what seemed like centuries, nothing could stop it.

Then, according to the scrolls, a group of holy warriors and priests rose up out of the ashes of the world and made war with Sythe. This war later became known as "The War of the Moon", for the forces of good (white) fought bitterly against the forces of evil (black). Many "months" passed, if you take my meaning.

To elaborate, the holy warriors and Sythe battled back and forth many times. Sometimes it appeared as if the holy fighters (which I will refer to as "Ma'handaa'Pyraz'Tyiarrhe", or Child of Blessings) won, other times Sythe emerged victorious. On some occasions, it appeared as if _both_ sides were winning, or losing… but anyway, I'm talking too much.

Through some miracle, which is usually the case, the Pyraz beat back Sythe and destroyed it for good. This dark power would not be defeated so readily, though, and in a last vain effort, it split into much smaller versions of itself. These "miniature Sythes" are what make up the evil in all men, or so says Master Fukien.

When I was in the middle of my studies one day, I received a call from Antei. After attaining permission from Master Fukien, I packed some light provisions and set out on my journey. Oh, forgive me for not elaborating on this. When I say that "I received a call", what I meant was that I was asked to perform an exorcism. Yes, I have that ability (I don't spend every waking hour in the company of priests for nothing!), and I freely give it to anyone who asks. Of course, my only real fee is a room to sleep in and food to eat.

Antei was some distance away from Qlon Temple, but thankfully, it wasn't quite as far as Kyaro Town, which is where I performed my last exorcism some three years previous. I had been there before--I didn't know whether it was a blessing or a curse that I couldn't see the town. Was it good that I was unable to look at the material possessions and earthly objects of that town? Or bad that I could not see the wonder and beauty of such a place? Debates, debates, debates…

I could determine what Antei consisted of simply by listening to what surrounded me.

"Fresh fish, get your fresh fish!"

"Jewelry! Jewelry for sale! Precious gems!"

"Armor! Guard your life against evil monsters with armor!" (Chapman selling wares)

"Tee hee… you have work for me?" (That'd be Jeane. Thank you, God, that I cannot see her indescribable features)

"Oh! Don't you like drinking tea with a beautiful lady?" (Kimberly, you're too old for this)

"HELLO, BABY! Wanna spend time at my place? Dance? Sure!" (Mina. You're too young, Mina…)

"Hi! Welcome to Antei!" (Qlon… may God bless you)

"Excuse me, please let me though, I need to pass." (Tesla, always in a hurry)

"You!" Ah, my client. I introduced myself, asked where the possessed person was. I was led inside a cool house that smelled of wood and olive oil, and then I took my time going up the stairs. Fourteen steps--I must remember that. I entered the room, felt the intense spiritual energy emanating from the… girl. Of course, it was a girl. My age. It was a girl my age, and perhaps I should thank God for my blindness. I walked over to her, laid my hands on her forehead.

"I need privacy," I warned, turning my head to her parents. They understood, and left the room. Well, now that we're alone… Eh, your name is Morgana. How fitting. Here, let me get rid of this demon for you……

__

Ashira ladonai ki gaoh gaah

Ashira ladonai ki gaoh gaah

Michamocha baelim adonai

Mikamocha nedarbakodesh

Nachitah v'chasd'cha am zu gaalta

Nachitah v'chasd'cha am zu gaalta

Ashira, ashira, ashira…

I heard a scream next, and something that sounded like the howling of the wind. I felt a terrible black power erupt from the girl, trying to claw its way back into her. Sensing the fiend, I repeated my prayer fanatically, until the wind died and I felt the creature no more.

A long pause followed. All I heard was the weeping and panting of the girl. I bowed, and gently laid her down to sleep. Closing her eyes, I left Morgana on the bed and alerted her parents. Fourteen steps…

"My work here is done," I told them. "Your daughter had a seed of what we priests call Ma'handaa'Sythe'Tyiarrhe, the demon's seed." Understandably, they gasped in shock, and I paused before speaking again. "But, she is strong now, and she will be completely healthy by tomorrow."

"Oh… thank you!" cried her mother. The woman poured tears and kisses on my mighty hands, hands that previously beat opponents into the nether regions. I managed a smile, but the grin faded as her father tried to arrange a marriage between us.

"Why would you want her to marry a stranger like myself?" I asked.

"Nobody in the village wants my Morgana!" cried the man. "Not even the bums on the street! She is a good child, pure of heart and learned of the ways of the world, but… but…"

"She is not attractive?" I tried. The father sighed.

"We are the only ones who think she is beautiful," said the mother. I frowned, and took in a deep breath.

"Let me speak to her when she recovers," I said. "Until then, I ask for a meal and a bed in lieu of payment."

At sunrise, I received a knock on my door. I was fully alert by the time I received my visitor--after all, I had been awake for two hours already.

"Enter." I heard the door open, three footsteps, and the door closed. Silence.

"Uh, hello," came a voice. I paused in thought. It sounded like Kasios, only… somewhat younger, and a little less confident. But it was beautiful, quite lovely, and I liked the tone.

"Morgana, correct?" I said. I stood up from my meditation, bowed, and introduced myself. She found it odd that our names were so similar. Coincidence.

"You were the one that helped me, right?"

"I know of nobody else," I replied. A silly question, but then again, there was that lack of confidence to consider. Maybe she just needed to know that the demons inside her were really and truly gone. I can understand that.

"I, uh… well, uh…"

"I don't need to be thanked," I said, sensing what she was about to say. I was pretty sure that she gave me a smile after that. I can sense things like emotion.

"Sorry about what my father said," she offered. "He's being super-sweet to me, trying to marry me off to the first noble stranger who passes through. I really don't think he should do that, you know?" I frowned, but made no response.

"So you would not care for it?" I asked.

"Not if it were a stranger, no!!" I sniffed, and crossed my arms. I don't usually smile--not because I'm a dark or depressing man, just because I usually have a serious outlook on things.

"I see. Then I have no business here." I left the room, halfway expecting her to chase after me. She did: called out my name, pulled on my arm, wanted to know where I was going, asked if she could come along…

"I don't know," I answered, craning my head to face her. "I'm not sure if Master Fukien would allow it."

"Then at least take me as far as the Warrior's Village," she pleased. "Please? I've always wanted to go somewhere romantic like that." Somewhere romantic? The Warrior's Village? Why? I asked her these confounding questions, but all she did was smile and gush a little.

"Maybe I can find somebody to love while I'm on the road," she said. "Besides, father and mother have been wanting to get me out of the house forever. That's why father's trying to marry me off, at least I think so." I frowned, and shrugged in indifference.

"Do as you wish. I leave you now." I bowed my head, and calmly left the house and Antei. She followed, and acted as my eyes.

****

The End


	22. The Color of Freedom: The Tale of Ivano...

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The Color of Freedom: The Tale of Ivanov

Hello. My name is Ivanov, and I am an artist. My ultimate goal is to find the true color of freedom, but only recently have I been able to search for it. I will know it when I find it; that is all I can say. This may confuse you, but after hearing what I have to say, maybe you'll understand.

One day, I took a walk to see if I couldn't find what I was looking for. While searching for the true color of freedom, I stumbled across several observations. I recorded these in my notes, and now, after my journey's end, I can safely say that I have found what I was looking for. Let's see if you agree.

Bring forth midnight to quell my innermost uncertainties.

Love the noble raven, for it too has a right to crow.

A great fighter boasts not of the sash around him.

Coal from the earth warms the heart with flames.

Kill without favor or bias, O Death.

Run straight to the center of the target, beloved arrow!

Eat of the sweet berry, grow strong and wise from its fruit.

Donate thy heart as thy oath of loyalty, my sweet.

Pretty violets bloom at my feet.

Under the great soil lies the worm.

Rewards for bravery often reflect the heart.

Please take this royal robe, unsuited for my shoulders.

Lap the vintage that intoxicates the senses.

Eat of the cluster from the vine.

Bake wheat and rye together, make food for the masses.

Rake up the fertile soil, O diligent farmer!

Oaks tower above, piercing the sky.

Witness the cow munching blades of grass.

Nearer to my quivering lips comes the sweet delight.

Greet the storm clouds as they drench the world!

Reach for the stone by the shore, its fate is yours.

A silvery spoon may be used to designate greatness.

Yes, age will affect all of us.

Yield.

Each proud hen bears chirping offspring.

Low into the caves and canyons of the world lies treasure.

Loathe the stomach of the craven one.

Over hills of dandelions I run like the breeze.

Will you brighten my day like the star at morn?

Grassy plains quiver, beckoning for your attention.

Run fast, run hard, run away, for envy stalks all.

Eat of what the fields of Mother Nature provide.

Earn your riches by working hard and long.

Never does the patient turtle yield to danger.

Boats great and small challenge Neptune in the uncharted open.

Love the boundless ceiling of sky.

Underneath every depressing face must lie a smile.

Enjoy the ribbon of privilege while you may.

Wintry frost chills, icy snow falls gently.

High above your head rests a cloud.

I am brimming with the milk of human kindness.

Take great care of the porcelain vase in the corner.

Eat of egg and flour, grow strong to face the next day.

This, my friend, is the true color of freedom--and far more than I can ever say.

What do you think?

****

The End


	23. Those That Learn: The Tale of Hugo

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Those That Learn: The Tale of Hugo

Pretty annoying, isn't it? Well, that's what people are faced with when they take people like me for granted. See, I'm a scholar--a young one at that, but a scholar nevertheless. It's my job to document everything relevant (and a few things irrelevant, though I won't say what the difference is), and as you'll soon find out, I pull it off quite nicely.

Did you notice that big blank space up there? Yes, rather empty, is it not? Well, without people like me around, that's what the world would be faced with. Just think about it. No more propaganda, no more histories, no more romance and fantasy novels, no newspapers or magazines… in fact, if you pull away the scribes and scholars of the world, you will pretty much have nothing left. There would be no communication, no warning of war, no beautiful poems, no harsh statements, and no information.

I may sound like I am going overboard, but just consider it for awhile. If the world became truly void of all peoples of writing profession, what would happen, really? There'd be no newspapers at least--of course, there'd also be no novels, or no histories, or plays… The list could go on, but I need to make my point. The world needs people like me, not just to tell them what's happening, but to encourage them to _do_ something about it. When was the last time a novel made you stand up and shout, or a poem make you swoon with love? If so, then where would you be without scholars?

Some may scoff at my declaration. Some may say that all this is unimportant. Let me lay the hammer down cold turkey and say that they are of the foolish breed. As the philosopher said, "those that do not learn from the past are condemned to repeat it". These ignorant few, and trust me when I say that there is only a _few_ of these people around, will be the ones forced to reckon for their own mistakes. Allow me to elaborate, and perhaps explain about a time when all men were such fools.

Long ago, there were two cousins that fought over the same land, Ruegner and Barbarossa. Those of the learned ilk know what I refer to, but for the layman, I'll elaborate. Ruegner and Barbarossa each claimed the great lands that were left over from the Harmonia struggles, and they each fought bitterly in what is now known as the Succession Wars. Barbarossa possibly outmatched Ruegner due to the fact that he had six competent generals and Leon and Mathiu Silverberg, but do not doubt me when I say that Ruegner held his own.

Barbarossa eventually killed Ruegner and staked the claim to his lands. These lush and fertile vallies later became known as the Scarlet Moon Empire, and the victor of the wars its Emperor. One would thus conclude that, since the wars were over and the "villain" defeated, peace would inevitably follow. Here comes the philosopher's wisdom.

These lands grew slack and lazy, and shifted into corruption and villainy themselves. A rebellion, a civil war, eventually sprung forth out of the quagmire of discord, and I among many others participated in it (this is why there is a detailed history of the civil war!). The war was long and quite bloody (I myself suffered a minor wound while engaged in battle), but in the end Barbarossa was killed and a new heir to the throne rose up. The philosopher, however, remained loud as ever.

Only three years passed before more war escalated--this time in regions far north of Toran. I myself was assisting a friend in documenting the life of Mathiu Silverberg when I heard the news, so I took over my friend's research while she helped in the war effort. I quickly became disgusted at how uneducated (because they did not learn from past mistakes) these people truly were, and I set about making sure that somebody learned.

In a bold and fearless style that accompanies only the hardiest of scholars, I set about making a record of the war. Harshly and bluntly did I describe everything, from the sputtering final words of victims not yet dead to the rallying cry for more blood and fighting. I was in Muse when a massive slaughter took place, and nearly escaped with my life to tell the tale; I was in Toto and Ryube when they were burned to the ground; I saw the devastation that had been inflicted at Greenhill, my old school. Although saddened by such losses, I did not cease to spread the word of war to the layman's ears.

This was actually my purpose. Through a long series of scorching letters, I pointed out the cold truth of the war in hopes that people would never repeat its mistakes. I wrote about orphans and widows who lost families, I wrote about soldiers killing without conscience, I wrote about how people readily betrayed lifelong friends, I wrote about the senseless destruction and the fanatical drive towards oblivion. And when the war finally came to a shivering end, my documents were ready to be read.

The results, needless to say, were mixed. Many people became enraged at what I had written, but most of them were angry for the right reason. Holy anger spewed from their mouths, and thousands of people rallied behind the ideals of peace. Only a select few criticized my works, saying that they distorted things and that the war was never as bad as I portrayed it. I wrote my works anonymously for safety's sake, so I couldn't very well reveal myself and explain the truth behind the wars.

Well, the land has been in peace for some time now. I wonder who is responsible for that!! Seriously, though, I contribute what I can. If I can stir a soul or cause violent minds to lay down their arms, then I have done my job. But I am not a fool. I know there will be people in the future that forget about the wars. I know that the green grasses will one day beg for blood again. I know there will come a time when enmity and discord root out peace and agreement, and I know that the banners of war will flap once again. I am not a fool; I expect this to happen. Of course, this only means that I must pick up my pen once again, and show people the true nature of war while they still have eyes to see and ears to hear. I will continue my crusade until I die, or until war becomes a forbidden memory.

(Excerpted from "The True Nature of War" by Hugo Valance. This particular copy was found buried with him, very much intact even after forty years of being submerged underground. Hs words have yet to be heeded.)


	24. Tiger Knight: The Tale of Fu Su Lu

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Tiger Knight: The Tale of Fu Su Lu

He didn't want people to see what he looked like, so that's why he wore that mask.

Fujinritsu Suturakata Ludicium was a very, very ugly man. No man (or woman) would be brave enough to peek under that tigerskin mask and see his true face. They just assumed that the visage of a tiger was evidence enough of his ferocity and power. Fujinritsu hated his physical appearance--or to be more precise, he hated his face. There was a point in time where he valued his looks, and even thought himself attractive. That was before the hunt in the jungle.

Fujinritsu and several other hunters ventured off into the woods one day. Somewhere between Banner and Gregminster, these woods served as a dangerous locality for normal people. Unfortunately, it was also the only safe route between the Scarlet Moon Empire and Highland/Jowsten territory. People had to come through here all the time, so on occasion a bodyguard went with them.

But Fujinritsu and his company were not there to travel or trade, they were there to hunt wild game. Semi-barbaric and wholly savage, the hunters just barely classified as humans, what with their unruly hair, smelly bodies, unshaven faces, animal-skin clothes, beady eyes, and terrible language. Fujinritsu, by far the most sophisticated of the bunch, stood out greatly as he led his fellow hunters through the woods.

As the assembly ventured through the jungle, a large group of tigers snuck up from behind and pulled out a vicious attack. Never one to back away from a fight, Fujinritsu brought out his twin cleavers and glared back at the tigers. His fellow hunters prepared their own weapons and fighting stances.

Out of the nine hunters that went out that day, only Fujinritsu survived to tell the tale. This came as no surprise, seeing as there were approximately seven ferocious animals in the whole bunch. The hunters fought like warrior-demons, as always, and practically mowed down the beasts. But in time, the tigers came back and slaughtered the humans.

Fujinristu's face was permanently disfigured from that fight. From the shoulders down, he retained much of his body and looked like he had never been injured before, but his face was scarred beyond recognition. To say that he was hideous now was almost a compliment. Of course, being a resourceful man, Fujinritsu made a mask for himself out of the tiger that had deformed him.

With a deft slice, a lot of patience and curing, and a little bit of adjustment, Fujinritsu soon had himself a tiger's head to cover the scars of his face. From that point on, he was Fu Su Lu--using the first two letters of his name as an alias. Since he had been the only survivor of the hunting pack, and nobody else really knew of him, he could freely travel around as the "tiger knight" and nobody would know the difference.

Boasting that he was the strongest warrior in the world, Fu Su Lu attained a position in the Kobold division of the Liberation Army. He fought ferociously while serving young Tir McDohl, and when all was said and done, his adventures still had not come to a conclusion.

He said, "The Temple of Annuit Coeptis." Unlike the previous place where he had been, this one Temple was _not_ surrounded by jungle, nor was it inaccessible to all but a select few, nor was it shrouded in mystery. In fact, up until very recently, it was greatly populated and taken care of. Fu Su Lu was there on a mission, of course: to discover why the Temple of Annuit Coeptis had been abandoned so suddenly.

Normally this was not his forte, but Fu Su Lu owed somebody a debt. This "somebody" seemed a little too interested in the Temple, and why there was no longer anybody residing there. As a warrior of honor, Fu Su Lu vowed to explore the Temple and discover the root of the problem--though he hated risking life and limb for somebody's inane curiosity.

Fu Su Lu entered the Temple as casually as his physical makeup allowed him. He had no natural tail, though the one he had cut from that tiger did sway as if it were his own. He had no claws nor fur, for behind that mask he was a human, but he could still churn out a ferocious fight if provoked. To his dismay, there would probably be no need for a battle inside the empty Temple.

Taking inaudible steps, Fu Su Lu crept inside the Temple, occasionally on all fours to give himself a more animalistic feel. Inside the building, things were nasty. Lots of cobwebs, dust, overturned statues, a smashed altar, blood smeared on the broken walls…

"A fight?" assumed the warrior. He put a hand to his chin. Fu Su Lu groaned in thought, and if that tail of his had independent will, it would have twitched along with him.

"Priests," said the warrior to himself. His mind churned out the remainder of the equation. _It is forbidden to kill a priest. Whoever or whatever did this must've had a death wish. I haven't noticed any really enticing bounties as of yet, so until things clear up around here, I can safely say that a monster did this._

Despite his lie, Fu Su Lu's hearing was very sharp, as sharp as any cat's. With the sound of footsteps approaching on the floor, the tiger knights scampered away and hid beneath an overturned pew. Peeking through the eyeholes he had cut, the great warrior could easily spot who was coming. He hoped that it was the monster.

It was not the monster. It was worse.

Out from the shambles of the temple emerged what appeared to be a great sheik, or at least somebody who was dressed like one. He wore a white cloak to protect himself from the burning desert sun, and had a white hood over his hair. Great thick strands of neutral gray hair sat above his eyes and beneath his nose, and a fierce gaze was permanently etched on his face. He reminded Fu Su Lu of Kasim Hazil, somewhat.

Fu Su Lu did not make a single sound as he watched the man quietly walk through the temple. A scimitar was hung neatly on his belt, the tip swaying to and fro as its master walked. The sheik, whoever he was, was probably here for the same reason as Fu Su Lu--though the tiger knight doubted this.

Suddenly, the man halted. Fu Su Lu frowned, swearing that every noticeable body part he had was concealed. His scent would have been masked by the dusty smell of the abandoned temple, and the soot on the floor was so thick it covered his prints. There was no way in Hades that the man knew of his whereabouts.

"Fujinritsu!" called the man, and Fu Su Lu growled inwardly. How the sheik knew that name, when the knight didn't even recognize him, was a complete mystery. But Fu Su Lu wasn't obligated to answer. After all, the sheik didn't _have_ to know that he was there, so he kept still.

"Come on, pussy," growled the man, searching the room with his beady gray eyes. The tiger knight frowned, but made no more movement than a rock. If he was emitting any sounds, they would have been too soft for even a Kobold to hear. He was completely hidden by the pew, and nothing stuck out. Unless the man in white started overturning things, he could stay there as long as required.

"Illegitimate son of a worthless mother," muttered the sheik. Fu Su Lu dared to smile as he saw the sheik mutter and search the temple. How he even knew about the tiger knight, let alone where he would be, was a question that Fu might've never gotten the answer to--nor did he desire to find out. As long as he stayed hidden, he would be safe and unseen.

"Aha!!" said the man, pulling a tapestry aside. Nothing was behind it. Fu grinned as broadly as he dared, but knew better than to laugh. This sheik was amusing, but he was hardly worth revealing himself over. Fear tickled at his ribs as the idea of the man pulling apart other items crossed his mind. Fu frowned quietly, and dismissed the thought.

After what seemed like thirteen minutes of looking, the sheik sighed and gave one last ultimatum.

"Come on out or I'll burn the place down!!" Fu Su Lu almost snorted, and didn't believe for one second that the man would make good on his promise--unless _he_ had been the one to kill those priests. Either way, Fu Su Lu had to do something. With a growl, the tiger knight flung the pew he was hiding under at the sheik, and brandished both his hatchets.

"To get to the one you seek, would you scorch this holy temple?!" roared the tiger knight. The sheik glared at the knight in horror, and a scimitar was taken out of its sheath.

"You _were_ here, insolent puss!" growled the man. Fu Su Lu merely stared back.

"Do I know you?"

"No, it is I who knows _you_," hissed the man. Fu growled gently, but kept his gaze on the man in white.

"What do you mean?"

"I heard of a ferocious warrior who wore the mask of a tiger," said the man. "This warrior is believed to be responsible for killing the priests in this Temple. I have come here to ascertain this."

"Oh, please," groaned Fu, scratching his back with his axe. "_I_ came _here_ to look for whoever killed the priests!"

"I do not believe you," hissed the man offensively. He took one step closer, and the blade in his hands begged for blood. Fu merely purred threateningly.

"It could mean that there's another tiger-warrior out there," he suggested.

"One named Fujinritsu Suturakata Ludicium?!" yelled the sheik. "No no, you're the only man in the world with that name."

"Then somebody must have set me up," suggested the knight. The sheik smiled wickedly.

"You are trying to avoid death," he whispered menacingly. "That is… unwise."

"I'm not your guy," insisted Fu. "This place was like this when I got here. I'm totally in the dark." The sheik grunted, and sneered in a rage. He hung the scimitar back into its sheath, but made no other movements.

"I will make a deal with you," he pointed. "I will accompany you to determine if what you say is correct. If I find no evidence that proves your innocence, then it is _I_ who shall be wearing that tigerskin mask. And if I find proof that what you say is true, then I will apologize and assist you in punishing the true culprit. Does that sound fair?"

"Yes, completely," said Fu Su Lu. The two warriors extended their hands, and shook on the deal. "So, do you have a name?"

"Yes," replied the man. "Call me Amar Khayiim."

Silently, Fu Su Lu and Amar journeyed back into town. As far as the tiger knight was aware, nobody knew he was going to the temple save for the friend that had asked him to visit there. Fu Su Lu did not expect to find the area so wrought with destruction, though, nor did he expect to find the enigmatic Amar waiting for him. He could only theorize that somebody had told the sheik that he would be there, and unless his hunch was wrong, that somebody would be his curious friend.

Why Amar thought that Fu Su Lu had been the killer of those priests was a mystery. Perhaps the real culprit had learned of Fu's arrival, and informed Amar of the deed so as to clear his own name. Yes, that seemed reasonable…

In any case, Fu Su Lu knew that he was innocent--after all, the temple had been in shambles when he arrived, and he had never visited there before. He had no reason to fear the other warrior's threatening words, but he still had the matter of finding out who the true culprit was. That alone would be difficult, unless a great coincidence pointed all fingers to the friend that had directed him to the temple.

Fu Su Lu had a feeling that his twin hatchets would be used frequently in the next few days.

Arriving in Zexen, Fu Su Lu and Amar wordlessly dismounted from their steeds. Neither warrior had spoken a single word to the other during their time on the road, which was perhaps best. Growling just barely, Fu Su Lu brushed his hands against the hilts of his hatchets, the hair on his arms and legs bristling. He calmly walked through the town, paying nobody any heed, though he himself drew a bit of attention. With one exception, he had never been in the town before.

Amar continued to follow Fu, his scimitar drawn threateningly. He only made slight growling sounds, and on occasion he would grunt out something; other than that, there was no speech between the two. Thankfully, Fu Su Lu knew where he was going; otherwise, he would have gotten lost and Amar would have grown suspicious. Arriving at the house of his friend, Fu Su Lu knocked twice before letting himself in.

"Are you in here, Aksa?" He purred quietly, using his sharp sense of smell and hearing to scout out his friend. The man emerged from the back door a few minutes later, and jumped slightly as he saw the two warriors.

"Oh, Fu! Y-you're back so soon!"

"Yeah, piece of cake!" roared Fu, balling his fists up in victory. Aksa, his friend, smiled warily.

"Yeah, I knew you'd look into it. So why was it abandoned, anyway?"

"Oh yeah! Well, you won't believe it, but all the priests in that temple were killed off!"

"Oh man!!" Aksa cringed in horror, and had to sit down before he fell down. "Fu, that's terrible!! Killing priests is punishable by execution, isn't it?!"

"Sure is!" grunted the tiger knight. "But, ah, I stumbled onto a little problem while I was over there! See this guy over here?" Fu Su Lu stepped to the side, displaying Amar like he was a new line of clothes. Aksa mumbled and adjusted his glasses.

"Oh yeah, he's from the tribe of Khak'sah. They're a wandering group of warrior-sheiks who occasionally do the dirty work for important people. But why's he hanging around you?"

"I was informed that this _person_ here may have been responsible for murdering the priests," hissed Amar darkly. Aksa swallowed and adjusted his glasses again.

"Huh, Fu? No, I can vouch for him. I sent him to that temple two days ago. He had a favor he owed me, and I wanted to know why that place was abandoned."

"And you had nothing to do with this guy trying to kill me?" asked Fu. Aksa grunted and glared at him in offense.

"Humph, the nerve! I'm shocked that you accused me of such a thing! I know it sounds fishy that I know where this guy comes from, but trust me when I say that I've never seen him in my life." Fu Su Lu growled softly, and folded his arms in disbelief.

"I guess I can trust you," he snorted. "But if you didn't set me up, then who?"

"Dunno," shrugged Aksa. "But if you think I can help you out, then I will. I mean, you went to the temple for me, right?" Fu Su Lu nodded his head, and Aksa stood out of his seat to join his companions.

"By the way," he mentioned, "if you're going to start searching, we'd better ask your sheik friend about who sent him. I have no doubt that that'll be our guy." Fu Su Lu and Aksa turned their eyes towards Amar, but he only crossed his arms.

"I suppose I could tell you," he groaned. "It's a man named Algoth. I met him while wandering around in Kal--"

"Algoth?!" Fu Su Lu nearly spat out his uvula as he screamed out the name. "Well, I should have known! Old Algoth's been wanting to kill me for years! He swindled me out of a deal, and tried to put the blame on me!! Huh, if he's behind it then I won't doubt how you were manipulated."

"What?! What did you say, pussy?!" Amar growled, and raised his scimitar to Fu's throat. The tiger knight grunted, and eased the blade away.

"There, now! None of that! I'm just saying that Algoth's a conman's conman! He conned me, and I'm pretty shrewd for a fighter! Don't take it so offensively when I say that he tricked you!!" Wordlessly, Amar growled and sheathed his weapon again. Aksa sighed.

"I think I know where Algoth is. I last saw him in the bar, but that was yesterday. I don't think that he's left town just yet, but there are no guarantees."

"Well, it's pretty early in the day, so we'd better have a look around just in case," suggested Fu Su Lu. "If we don't find anything, we can just head back to this bar. All right?"

"Right."

Reeking with the stench of old beer and smoke, the bar in Zexen was hardly the place to retreat to if one wanted to escape daily problems. The seedy dive was hardly up to the region's health code: patrons sat chortling and coking on century-old stools, smoke clogged the ceilings, beer was spilled across the floor (and some dried blood had been mixed in it), there was filth everywhere, and to say that the bartender was friendly was a blasphemy.

In other words, Fu Su Lu hated it.

"Old Algoth would love it here," noted the warrior. Amar growled softly and held his hand over the hilt of his blade.

"What an unholy place," he muttered. Aksa swallowed, somewhat less accustomed to hanging around joints like this, and nervously asked the bartender about Algoth's whereabouts. The bald, thin man grunted and pointed a bony finger off towards a corner.

"Over there," he said emptily, and Aksa made sure to give him some potch for his troubles. The weakest member of the trio reported the status to his comrades, and Fu and Amar examined the corner to make sure the information was correct.

Sure enough, perched on a stool in the darkest corner of the room was a young man in an old man's clothes, smoking on an illegal pipe and drinking prohibited whiskey. Fu actually growled when he saw the con artist, and Amar carefully fondled the hilt of his blade.

"Allow me," he said, stepping forward slowly. "After all, he was the one who hired me." Fu Su Lu and Aksa shrugged and let the warrior approach Algoth. As Amar stepped forward, an inaudible conversation between the two took place. Neither Fu nor Aksa could determine what was being spoken, but the way that Algoth became animated was enough evidence to prove that he was mad.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," muttered Aksa. Fu Su Lu grunted.

"Maybe…" Suddenly, Algoth bolted out of his chair and noticed the two men standing there. He shouted, and drew a wicked-looking short sword on them. Amar growled, and slammed his scimitar on the table, neatly cutting it in half and almost doing the same thing to Algoth.

"So!" he shouted (he had to bellow pretty loud to be heard in that tavern). "It _WAS_ you!" Algoth flinched, and sneered angrily before rushing at Amar. The sheik easily sidestepped him and gave the man a fierce kick in the belly. The other patrons in the bar gasped in horror, while some scrambled around to watch the fight.

"Hey!!" roared the bartender. "Take it outside, you two!!" Amar and Algoth glared at each other, but agreed to hold their match outside. As they left, Fu Su Lu wordlessly shrugged and followed them, with Aksa bringing up the rear.

Outside, Aksa had cleared the way so the warriors could duel. Much to Amar's chagrin, however, Fu Su Lu stepped up beside him with his twin hatchets.

"It is I who must fight him, pussycat!" barked the sheik. "Your business is through! I relinquish you of all accusations!"

"Hey, I said that this man conned me!" replied the tiger knight. "So if anything, _I_ should be the one who fights him!" The two stared at each other for a brief time, but nevertheless agreed to fight together. Algoth, who was formerly a surly mass of guile and trickery, shirked the warriors and tried to hide in the shadows.

"Oh, no you don't!" shouted Fu Su Lu. He rushed towards the manipulator, swinging his axes like a blender. Amar roared after him, his scimitar swinging in the breeze. Poor Aksa, on the other hand, merely looked away as the carnage commenced.

When it was all said and done, the morgue had a very prestigious guest to add to their collection--or whatever remained of him--and Amar personally apologized for the misunderstanding. Fu Su Lu was officially cleared of all charges, and the priests who had been murdered were given proper burials. As clichéd as it was, everything settled down peacefully after that moment.

"Well," said Aksa as Amar silently rode off into the sunrise, "that certainly was an experience."

****

The End


	25. Anything but Average: The Tale of Sarah

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Anything but Average: The Tale of Sarah

Don't think too highly of me. I'm just your normal, everyday washerwoman. My name is Sarah--a very common, plain, and ordinary name. I'm nineteen years old, a very ordinary age--nothing special about it at all. I'm an average female height, and my hair is an ordinary brown color. It goes down past my shoulders, and I usually don't take great care of it, but nobody notices. After all, I'm just an ordinary young woman.

My profession is washing clothes. I'm the local launderer, and my wages are fairly acceptable. I usually work in the middle of the day, when the sun is out and the weather is warm. My hands are used to the labors I subject them to; they have become rough from scrubbing and washing the clothes for the people of Kirov and Toran. Oh, Kirov is where I live; Toran was technically my home for awhile, and then I moved to Gregminster.

But now I'm skipping ahead. There's really nothing incredibly special about me. I have a plain face, and plain hair. My eyes are a dark blue color, which is really quite ordinary in this world. I usually wear a plain blue maid's dress over my body--nothing incredibly fancy, just good enough to work in, really. I can fight a little, but then again, my skills _are_ very much average.

I don't speak too much, either. Actually, I'm usually a very shy girl. I stay away from massive crowds of people, mostly because I become lost in the masses. I'm a face that will easily become hidden; then again, what else is to be expected, since I'm such an average and ordinary girl? In fact, there really isn't any purpose behind this tale of mine. All I'm doing is telling you about me, and besides the fact that I'm a washerwoman and I'm normal, there really isn't anything fascinating to say about me.

Well… there was one time where I participated in the Liberation War… but that was the past. Once that war was over, I moved to Gregminster and became a maid for Marie's inn. As always, I was just an ordinary, everyday, usual worker in there. There was nothing special about me, nothing outstanding or extraordinary. Just Sarah, the brown-haired woman, who washes people's clothes and takes care of the beds.

I don't have any deep or dark secrets that I keep hidden, I really don't. Now you might expect me to add that I do, but I really don't. If I did have something hidden behind this image of normality, then I would say so. God knows that if I had something special, I'd display it for all the world to see. Girls like me don't usually get the chance to show off something unusual, even if it is dark and foreboding.

But, I'm not like that. There really are no secrets I keep. You already know everything there is to know about me: my name is Sarah, I have brown hair and blue eyes, I wear a blue work dress, I live in Kirov (and now, Gregminster), I wash clothes and take care of an inn for a living, and at one point in my life, I participated in the Liberation War. That's really all there is to me--all that, and nothing more.

Did I mention that I saved somebody's life once? I did. He'd be dead if it weren't for me. Really. I truly do mean that. I'm not boasting at all! He would have died if I had not fought off that group of soldiers while he was weakened. Of course, I really don't talk about it that much, seeing as how people might think I was lying. After all, people might think that I was crazy if I told them that I saved the life of Tir McDohl! And we certainly don't want that!!

****

The End


	26. Our Blood, His Guts: The Tale of Kreutz

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Our Blood, His Guts: The Tale of Kreutz

__

"Old soldiers never die, they just fade away." --Douglas Macarthur

"Ten hut!!"

He slowly walked before the young men, dressed in full military decoration. As the bugler began playing, he snapped his finest salute. A bold and fearless look was on his eyes as he heard the music play, and saluted the junior officers before them. This was it, then. The night before the big battle. He would need to give them a stirring speech, one that gave these brave young boys the courage to go out and destroy the enemy.

As the bugler ended his song, the General released his salute.

"Be seated." The sound of chairs being pulled and sat in echoed across the room, and the General slowly prepared his speech.

"Now, I want you to remember… that nobody ever won a war by dying for their country. They won it… by making the other poor dumb person die for _their_ country. Men, all this stuff you've heard about this country not wanting to fight, wanting to stay out of the war… is a load of horse dung. We, traditionally, love to fight. All _real_ citizens of our country… _love_ the sting of battle.

"When you were kids, you all admired the champion marble-shooter, the fastest runner, the big-league ball players, the toughest boxer… We love a winner, and will not tolerate a loser! We play to win all the time; I wouldn't give a hoot in Hades to a man who lost… and laughed! We have never lost, and _will_ never lose a war! Because the very thought of losing… is hateful to us!

"Now… an army is a team; it lives, eats, sleeps, and fights as a team. This individuality stuff is a bunch of crap. The bigots who wrote that stuff about individuality in the _Harmonian Post_ don't know any more about _real_ battle than they do about fornicating!

"Now we have the finest food, equipment, the best spirit, and the best men in the world! You know… by God, I actually pity those poor fools we're going up against, by God I do! We're not just going to kill them--we're going to cut out their living guts and use them to grease our watermills! We're going to _murder_ those lousy infidels by the bushel!

"Now… some of you boys are wondering… whether or not you'll chicken out under fire; don't worry about it. I can assure you that you will all do your duty. The Scarlet Moon army is the enemy! Wade into them! Spill _their_ blood, stab _them_ in the belly! When you put your hand… into a bunch of goo… that a moment before was your best friend's face……… you'll know what to do.

"Now there's another thing I want you to remember. I don't wanna get any messages saying that we're holding our position. We're not holding anything. Let the enemy do that. We are advancing constantly, and we're not interested in holding anything, except the enemy! We're going to hold onto him by the nose, and we're going to kick them in the butt! We're going to kick the guts out of him all the time, and we'll go through him like crap through a goose!!

"Now… There's one thing that you men will be able to say when you get back home, and you may thank God for it. Thirty years from now, when you are sitting around the fireside, with your grandson on your knee, and he asks you 'What did you do in the great Succession War?', you won't have to say: 'Well… I shoveled manure in Lenankamp'.

"All right, now you sons of devils, you know how I feel. I will be proud to lead you wonderful guys into battle, anytime…… anywhere. That's all."

This is the story of General Kreutz, and the final battle against Barbarossa's forces.

The morning air was calm and clear, never once suggesting that any kind of malice could come of it. The sun was out, just slightly hidden behind a veil of clouds, and the sky was never more blue. Before the slowly advancing army, the great base of Barbarossa the usurper stood, almost as if to spite all foreigners. They even had the audacity to wave flags in the torrents. General Kreutz, however, was neither spited nor fazed, only calm, and cool, and strangely serene.

On that day in history, over one hundred-thousand men would lose their lives.

"Men," addressed Kreutz, "this is it. We've suffered much, but we'll make sure that whatever pain that has been inflicted on us, will be inflicted tenfold on the enemy! This is where we hold them by the nose and kick them in the butt!! Come on!!" The soldiers rallied behind Kreutz led out a wild cheer, and slowly took position as they geared up for the final battle.

All in all, there were ten units surrounding the base, each one boasting ten-thousand strong. _This is where it pays off,_ thought Kreutz. _The training and the discipline… No other outfit in the world could pull out of a major battle and move a hundred miles to go into a major attack with no rest, no sleep, no hot food… God…! God, I'm proud of these men!!_

The base where Barbarossa was operating, the great castle-like structure, stood high in the middle of the beautiful day, its flags waving and its soldiers at rest. For the past several years now, the Scarlet Moon army and Geil Ruegner's forces had been at bloody odds with each other. Ruegner was superior in virtually every form and fashion, but Barbarossa had the minds to pull out of the war.

Though Kreutz was Ruegner's greatest General, he was largely responsible for taking on Barbarossa's six. He had Kwanda Rossman's impossible defenses to overcome in Panna Yakuta, and then of course there was Milich Oppenheimer's treacherous castle in the Antei region. Through a series of long and bloody battles, he had trudged through red waters in the naval fight with Sonya Shulen, and the fight against Teo McDohl's _and_ Kasim Hazil's forces had nearly wiped the army out. Battling against Georg Prime was possibly the worst experience yet, but somehow Kreutz pulled through.

Now, here he was, facing Barbarossa's base with the entire army behind him. They had faced the worst that the usurper had given them; even the combined genius of Leon and Mathiu Silverberg had not been able to stop them from coming this far. Now, though they were outnumbered, they continued to march onward, towards the base and the mouth of infernal death.

Raising his sword, Kreutz gave the order for his unit to attack, and the last battle between Ruegner and Barbarossa took place.

As the ten units dashed forth to break the castle doors open, a storm of arrows poured in from the skies above. Kreutz cursed and gave the order to scatter. Reports indicated that the soldiers of the Scarlet Moon fortress were sound asleep, and unprepared for such an attack. Apparently, the report had been false.

A few dozen soldiers fell down dead from the arrows; many more were wounded. Kreutz shouted an order to all his archer units to fire at will, but since the castle turrets were so high, not many arrows made it up. Still, Kreutz and his infantry ran onward, ignoring the second wave of arrows as they screamed out in a bloody rage.

Suddenly, larger and more dangerous objects fell from the castle, and Kreutz's unit scattered to avoid the boulders. Signaling for his own team of catapults to open fire, Kreutz too several of his strongest soldiers and began battering down the door. As they smashed against the wooden gate, more and more arrows were passed between forces. Archers and soldiers died by the bushel, true to Kreutz's word, and even more perished under the smashing weight of falling boulders.

It was a terrible scene, to be in the very hands of Death itself, but Kreutz persevered onward. The gates were finally knocked down, and the soldiers ran screaming into the base, determined to take Barbarossa's head with them. Before they could go a yard, however, they were cut down by three powerful fighters. Kreutz cursed as he walked into the castle, and his great sword came out for all the world to see as he stood face-to-face with Kwanda, Sonya, and Milich.

"You!" he spat. "Iron Wall" Rossman smiled and bounced his hatchet on his hand.

"Yes, us," he leered. "Upon my name as 'Iron Wall' Rossman, you will not take another step!"

"And on my honor as a Shulen, your blood will paint the earth red!" swore Sonya.

"I must say, that uniform you are wearing will look even better on me," sang Milich. Kreutz growled and took one single step backwards. He was an incredible swordsman, but not even he could face these three worthy opponents at once. Instead, he barked an order to four of his finest troops, and demanded that they attack Milich and Kwanda. The lovely and lethal Sonya would be his alone.

"Are you a coward?" demanded Shulen as she raised her glaive. "Sending in your soldiers to do your own work! For shame!"

"They are as worthy to fight you as I am, General Shulen!" snarled Kreutz. He dashed his mighty sword against her glaive, and it was just barely countered. Sonya smiled wickedly, and bashed the blunt end of the weapon into Kreutz's stomach. He didn't even flinch.

"This fine armor was made by the dwarves themselves," grunted Kreutz as he pushed Sonya back. "Not even Barbarossa's sword could pierce it!"

"We will see!" snarled Sonya. Out of the corner of his eye, Kreutz could see Kwanda chopping his soldiers to pieces, and Milich dancing around their attacks like a crazed ballerina. More and more soldiers streamed into the castle, but very few managed to get past the two Generals.

As Kreutz and Sonya fought bitterly, a loud cry came from outside. Growling, Kreutz gave Sonya a fierce punch in her pretty face and turned around just to see the arriving forces of Kasim Hazil, Georg Prime, and Teo McDohl arrive. He swallowed fiercely, knowing that there was no way his army could face all three of these fine Generals at the same time.

Kreutz had not expected such a pincer trap to even be called. Muttering something about "Leon, you wretch!", Kreutz ran outside and left Sonya to plow through a wave of soldiers. His sword still bare, he glared icily as Kasim, Teo, and Georg all stared down at him. Only McDohl smiled.

"General Adolf Kreutz, it's been a long time," said the black-haired man. Kreutz snarled, but kept his tongue. "Do you remember the thrashing that Kasim and I gave you at Moravia? Or how about the beating you received from Prime in the region of Garan? Huh?"

"I seem to recall fighting back rather fiercely, General," muttered Kreutz. "And _you_ seem to forget the time where I bested you in Lorimar and Kalekka."

"Minor skirmishes," smiled Teo emptily. He drew his sword, and Kasim and Georg mirrored his movements precisely. "Well, have at it! I wonder if you can support your words with actions, Kreutz!"

"Barbarossa will die!!!!" swore the gray-haired General. He stormed forward, and met Teo's saber in a climactic clash. Georg Prime shrugged, and lazily dismounted from his ride as he joined the battle. Kasim, on the other hand, ordered their individual troops forward, and with a roar like the ocean and a stampede like the sea, their troops flooded Kreutz's men and the ferocious final battle escalated.

Five hours passed.

Exhausted beyond definition, Kreutz could only kneel and hold his blade as he panted his breath. His precious sword had actually been broken by Teo's saber, and although the former had been winning thus far, he had not pulled a victory out of the fight. As Kreutz kneeled and grasped the hilt of his dead blade, he could hear the fighting die down behind him.

_This is the end,_ he thought to himself. _The end… Emperor Ruegner was killed, my army annihilated, and now, even in this final battle, I am humiliated beyond definition. There is…… no justice in this, none at all…_

"Kill me," barked Kreutz. Teo stood over him and sighed sadly.

"Under any other circumstances, I would have," he said. "But your war is lost. Your emperor is dead, your men are slaughtered, and you have nothing left. This war is over, Kreutz, and whether you want to admit it or not, you lost." Teo pointed his blade at Kreutz's neck, and ordered the man to stand. Kreutz sighed, and did as he was told.

"Now get out of this land," ordered Teo emotionlessly, "and never come back again."

Seven years passed. Kreutz made himself a refugee, and scattered to the ends of the earth. He wandered for a very long time, until he came across the Dragon Knights. Knowing their neutrality, Kreutz decided to reside there for the time being, and watched and waited as the Empire he tried to prevent began to crumble. _Ironic,_ he thought to himself. _After everything I did, this Empire is dying away--not from external forces, but from the inside. What a tragedy. If only there was something I could do now…_

So, he thought as the years passed, _what do I do now?_

_For over a thousand years, Highland conquerors returning from the wars enjoyed the honor of a Triumph, a tumultuous parade. In the procession, came trumpeters and musicians and strange animals from the conquered territories, together with carts, laden with treasure and captured armaments. The conqueror rode in a triumphal chariot, the dazed prisoners walking in chains before him. Sometimes, his children, robed in white, stood with him, or rode the trace horses. A slave stood behind the conqueror, holding a golden crown, and whispering in his ear a warning, that all glory… is fleeting._

****

The End


	27. A Story About Me: The Tale of Georges

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A Story About Me: The Tale of Georges

Why won't anybody write a story about me? Why? I just don't get it. I'm a person too. I have feelings just like everyone else. So why won't anybody write about me? They'll write about Master Tir and Gremio and Luc and the whole gang, but nobody will write about me. Heck, they won't even _mention_ me! They won't even acknowledge my existence! Nobody cares about me at all!

But why? I'm one of the 108 stars! I'm part of that group, too! Okay, so I really don't play a big role in the war. But who did? There were about twenty people in that army that played big roles, and the rest of us were just more or less _there_. This really is unacceptable. Think about the ratio. Out of all 108 stars, twenty of them were well-developed, leaving a gaggle of 88 to sit around doing nothing except drinking Ledon's tea and eating Lester's cooking.

Guess what? This is where I came in. Up until Master Tir came to Kirov, all the characters ever did was drink tea, eat stew, sleep, talk, and maybe fight. But when Master Tir came to Kirov, he found me, a humble wanderer! I introduced him to this lovely game of cards, and here is where I came in. I showed the young master the love of something called a "mini-game", and he took a shine to it very well.

Well, after he beat one of my records, I joined him as promised. Now that I was in the Liberation Army, the boredom of the troops would decline significantly. Once I arrived, a flock of insane people that had nothing to do came to me, and begged to play with my cards. Of course, I allowed them.

Well, time passed and my significance faded. My style of entertainment became less popular once that wretched kid Marco came into the army. Him and his game of find the coin! It was so quick, so mind-numbingly simple, that even the Kobolds could understand it. My card games bemused many a people at first, and even near the war's end, many still did not understand my trade.

Is this the reason why nobody will write about me? Is this the reason why I am so unpopular? I said before that I am not even mentioned--_not even mentioned!!_ I know far more useless characters than myself that get mentioned (I won't give any names), so why am I not even spoken about? It does not make any sense at all.

So, with this burden of _unwantedness_ on my shoulders, I set about to explore the world and ask somebody--anybody at all, really--to go and invent a story about me. I first limited my prospects to Kirov--after all, everyone knew me there best. I met with no success. My journeys took me to lands south of that area, i.e. the Warrior's Village, Gregminster, the Dwarf Mines, Kalekka, etc. Nobody, not even the aspiring writers, wished to include me into their tales.

I ended up journeying north, towards the City-States and the Highland territories. At the time, Muse was bustling with the usual populous and here I thought somebody would record my life. But no, nothing came of it. In Two River I was rejected, even by the oppressed Wingers, and the people of Tinto merely laughed at me. Greenhill seemed like my last genuine hope, what with its students and all, so after getting rejected from Matilda, I came there.

Imagine my surprise when I found no-one willing to chronicle my life. Nobody, nobody at all, wished to tell of my escapades. Some had never even heard of the Liberation Army, let alone me! Disappointed, I began traveling the world over, hoping against all hope that one blessed nation would take me.

I frequented Crystal Valley, Harmonia, the Grasslands, Zexen, the Nameless Islands, and the Deep North where giants live. I spanned the whole of the continent, and then some, and still found no willing writer. By the time I had traveled the bulk of my land, I had aged three years and had little to show for it, except for my taste in traveling.

I decided that I had only one last option. Leaving the exotic lands behind, I went back to Toran with a heavy heart. As I returned to this land, I found an acquaintance of mine, Hugo. My heart leaped for joy as I remembered how Hugo would often record things for Master Tir, so I ran after him and greeted him with a smile.

"Hugo, old boy!" I shouted. "It's been such a long time! My, you've grown into a man!"

"Uh… Gregory, was it?"

"No, Georges, the man with the card games." I wasn't too offended at the notion of correcting him. After all, I would have forgotten many people as well in these past few years.

"Ah yes!" he shouted. "I remember you now! Pity; I never was able to beat your card games."

"Ah yes, that's correct!" I said. Quickly sensing that this conversation was going nowhere, I instantly changed the subject and told him my plight. "Hugo old friend," I proudly began, "I was wondering if you would care to write a story about my life."

"I'd really rather not," he sniffed. My heart sank down to the soles of my feet as I heard him brush me off, and with a farewell he was gone.

"But why, Hugo?" I asked. "I'm just as important as you were! Don't you realize how I cured so many people of their boredom?! And you know that if Master Tir hadn't recruited me, Gremio would still be dead! So, why will you not write about me? I have a very interesting life! Why?"

"Because," answered the scholar, "there already exists a story about your life."

And you, dear reader, have just finished reading it.

****

The End


	28. S is for Suspect: The Tale of Tesla

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"S" is for Suspect--The Tale of Tesla

__

"My God… forced back into a life of crime…" --Tesla.

It was exactly 9:42 in the evening, the rain was falling quite hard of the house, there were several candles lit because the power was out, smoke curled up from somebody's pipe, and a very important person had been murdered. In short, it was going to be a very rough evening, and rougher still by the looks of the crowd sitting round Inspector Pinkerton. They were all, all eight of them, all suspected of killing the very important person--one Doctor James Philemon, a resident of local parts.

The night was particularly stormy, but it was a calming storm--the kind that would put even a nervous child to bed. Still, the power had gone out, so the entirety of the room--the _locked_ room, since Inspector Pinkerton did not wish for any suspects to leave--the entirety of the room was dotted with candlelight. Inspector Pinkerton paced around the room, calmly calculating as his eyes moved from person to person.

It was his pipe that was smoking. Pinkerton wished to have a good smoke around 9:45 every evening, and tonight he decided to attend to his habits a little earlier than usual. Perhaps this was a good thing; the clientele in the room was rather disagreeable, to say the least. It was not guaranteed that only _one_ person was the killer; indeed, all eight of them might have been involved, directly or not. In a sense, they already were, so Pinkerton concluded that, until proven otherwise, they were all of them guilty.

From a clockwise position, if Pinkerton was facing the only door in or out of the room, there were exactly five men and three women in the room. Their histories were clouded, and up until recently, Pinkerton had not known their names. He simply addressed them as Sir of Ma'am; in fact, he was only truly knowledgeable enough with one suspect to call them by name, and this was a scrivener named Tesla. Everyone else, by some definition, was an alien.

The body--that is, Dr. Philemon--had been found dead in the kitchen. There were no stab wounds, and he was not bleeding abnormally. Now, before the doctor had sat down for his supper, he had received a minor cut on his left hand, somewhere above the knuckle of his index finger, so he _was_ shedding blood, just not at an alarming rate that might suggest foul play. He was also in his slippers, but this was logical since he usually bathed after supper.

When Dr. Philemon was discovered (by his assistant, who was one of the suspects), he was slumped over his meal, which had consisted of roast with mixed vegetables and a little bit of cheese. The roast was still warm when examined, and not eaten at much, so it was assumed that Dr. Philemon had died almost as soon as he began eating. After filing through the doctor's medical file, Pinkerton found no cause for allergic reaction to the food. Though Philemon had a physical imbalance for cat hair and certain arachnids, he could take any food and not be harmed by it.

Five minutes into his investigation, Pinkerton had already assumed that A) the doctor had not died of allergic reactions (there was not a trace of cat hair in the house, not even in the trash cans), B) he had not died from any stab wounds, since he was not bleeding profusely, and C) he had been killed almost as soon as he began eating. The case was not an easy one, but Pinkerton had seen far more difficult ones, with far more suspects and far less time to dig through everything. This one, though, would certainly prove a challenge.

The suspects, every single one of them, had been gathered inside the room as soon as the doctor was pronounced dead. Inspector Pinkerton, a well to-do gentleman who usually did well on enigmatic murder cases, had been called to close the case by the end of the week. He promised a conclusion within two days' time; so far, he was faring well.

Aside from Tesla and the doctor's assistant, there were six others gathered in the room that had been pointed out. Inspector Pinkerton visited each of them, one by one, and made his usual inquiry. From a brief grilling, he learned that Philemon had had several people over at his house during the time of murder. Some had reasonable alibis for their presence, others did not.

Clockwise, there was Tesla the scrivener, who had been the doctor's personal scribe for some time now. Though he lacked outstanding characteristics, Tesla was competent in his field, and was known to legally forge many documents in his employer's stead (which had came from his early years working for organized crime). His methods were very precise and he was quite meticulous, but as a suspect, he had no real reason for murder, save his wages were low.

After Tesla was the doctor's personal assistant. The young man had studied under Philemon ever since he entered medical school, and the two grew to be friends. This assistant respected Philemon greatly, and had hoped to one day fill in the older man's shoes. He also had no real reason to kill, but he was the first to know about the doctor's death, and so was added to the list because of his unbelievable speed.

One of the invited guests had been an obscure but talented appraiser. The doctor, himself a fairly rich man, had hired somebody to come over and assess the value of several paintings. Though this man did not know Philemon well, he knew of his riches, and could have easily stolen several valuables himself were the doctor dead.

The doctor's current mistress, a classy and civilized lady who sometimes smoked from a hookah, had given a polite guffaw when fingered as a suspect. Though harmless on the outside, she and Philemon often had quarrels and fights, which would usually end well but sometimes festered on. The lady was not particularly wealthy, but she also had no interest in the doctor's gold. She was merely suspected for the occasional threat uttered to the man.

Aside her was Philemon's chief chef. This big woman, who obviously knew how to eat just as much as she knew how to cook, was a stubborn sort who always preferred her diners to smile at her meals. Temperamental and very disagreeable, the cook had been getting lots of negative feedback from her employer, and could have easily snuck something nasty into the roast before serving it. Many fingers pointed to her.

There was also the doctor's sister, who had practically estranged herself from the family. Though by no means a black sheep, the girl was nevertheless trouble, for she often engaged in…… questionable occupations, many of which involved areas around her bust, waist, or both. The two never agreed, and the sister was growing poor, and a death in the family would have guaranteed her the doctor's money.

There was also the main architect of the house. This man, unlike everyone else, knew the build of the house quite well--_too_ well, in fact. He knew of every secret chamber and hidden passage, and could have crept around as he saw fit. Because of this knowledge he was suspected, even though his mind was simple and incapable of killing.

Finally, there was one last man in the room, the father of a patient of the doctor's. Early in his career, Philemon was unable to save the life of a young girl. The event had always been a curse on his mind, but a bigger curse still was on the father's lips. The man had been horribly angry with Philemon, and even swore revenge. That had been five years ago, but because of this event, he had been pulled into the room and suspected of murder.

With the eight suspects surrounding him, Pinkerton placed his hands behind his back and started to smoke on his pipe. With this number of people to interview, it would have taken him quite a while to really get anywhere, but he had plenty of time. He had promised to crack the case in two days, but his superiors would have been pleased enough by seven. He was sure, even if it took him hours on end, that the mystery would not go for three days. He started with the people who were almost certain to have not been involved, so he walked up to the doctor's assistant first.

"Now, sir," he began, "can you tell me where you were when you first learned of Dr. Philemon's death?"

"Yes, inspector. I was in the kitchen at the time. I wanted to get something to eat for dinner, and when I came into the room, I saw the doctor dead."

"I see." Pinkerton grumbled and nodded his head in thought. "Young man, you have knowledge in operative skills, correct?"

"What skills?"

"Forensics. You know how to use a scalpel, correct?"

"Yes, sir, I am licensed to use any medical tools except those specified by Dr. Philemon."

"I see. Young man, could you tell if the doctor had any abnormal cuts in his body?"

"I could sir, but he did not have any, other than the one on his hand." Pinkerton grumbled again, and sucked on his pipe.

"So you were simply hungry when you went into the kitchen."

"Yes, sir. I don't care for food now, obviously."

"And would you have any reason to… say, murder Dr. Philemon?"

"No, sir!!" exclaimed the assistant. "I studied under him for several years now. He's my mentor, sir! I could never bring myself to kill him, for any reason! Besides, I wanted my medical degree, and I could only get it if I studied under him. Now I'm stuck until I can find another physician to study under."

"I see." Pinkerton paused, and gazed at the assistant. With a sigh, he waved him away. "You certainly sound convincing. You have a plausible alibi, and since by killing him you would bring destruction upon yourself, I believe that you are innocent of the crime. But stay inside this room; I may need your testimony later."

"Yes, sir." The assistant sighed with relief, and slouched in his chair a little.

"Just like that," muttered the chef. "You're letting him go just like that?!"

"Ma'am, I can find no logical reason why this young man would want to end the life of his own teacher," argued Pinkerton. "I have reason to believe he is innocent; therefore, until I find proof otherwise, he shall be." The chef snorted and crossed her arms, but remained silent. With the assistant out of the way, Pinkerton went to the next least-likely suspect, in hopes of narrowing the list down further.

"Tell me, sir--what is your relationship to Dr. Philemon?"

"Uh, I was the architect that made his house, sir," answered the man.

"I see. And, do you remember where you were when you heard about his death?"

"Yes sir, I was at home reading the comics when I got a telegram from the police. They asked me to come over here and report."

"Ah!" The inspector smiled, and tapped the young man's arm. "So, I have your permission to confirm this claim by wiring the police department?"

"Yes, sir. They'll vouch for me." The inspector smiled, and shook his head.

"No, I suppose I can believe you. Besides, a telegram will take up too much time. I'm sure that, if you permit me, then I can believe you. You're off the hook, son, but stay here so I can get more information."

"Yes, sir."

"Hmph, rotten little…" The chef grumbled again, but was silenced by a glare from Pinkerton. He decided to save her for _later_.

One by one, Inspector Pinkerton sifted through each of the suspects, gaining much more knowledge about the crime but almost nothing about the criminal. The appraiser that had been hired was a stiff man, who continually insisted his innocence. He ended up admitting his lust for Philemon's money, but assured the inspector that he would have gotten a portion anyway--not from foul play, but as a fee for his work. A man in his position, he noted, did not go and do something rash like killing people over money.

Philemon's mistress, though distressed over the sudden death, also revealed nothing new. She admitted to wanting a portion of his gold as well, but assured the inspector that there were at least twelve other people he could interview that would back up her alibi. She had been at the opera at the time, and had only recently been able to come by, so after ascertaining that she could not have killed him, he left her for the others.

Philemon's sister was a tougher nut to crack. Pinkerton had to use several good grilling methods before she admitted to having spiteful thoughts towards her brother. But she assured him that there was only discord between them, and not murderous hate. Besides, with her broken arm (here she presented it to the inspector quite loudly), she would not have been able to perform any killing other than a stabbing or a clubbing, and neither applied.

Tesla was also a difficult person to coax, but with the proper amount of wholesome persuasion, Pinkerton was assured that the scrivener was not responsible for the death. True, Tesla was not getting fair wages, and this might have made him angry, but certainly not homicidal. Besides, he had been in the study the whole time--the doctor's assistant even proved it by taking the whole company to the study. Tesla was able to even pinpoint the very book he had been scribbling in--in fact, the very _line_ he had scribbled when he heard the news. With such evidence, Pinkerton was forced to move onto the last two--the chef and the vengeful father.

As Pinkerton badgered the chef, Tesla sighed with relief. So, his ploy had worked. They did not suspect a thing. The doctor's patient was naïve; Pinkerton believed them simply because of their cooperation. He really and truly did not suspect a thing…

After an hour of interrogation, the cook came clean and fessed up to _planning_ for the murder of Philemon. She was not charged with attempted murder, however, because her plans involved either strangulation, food poisoning, or stabbing, and it was clear that none of these methods were used. She was then proved innocent of murder, although the authorities would have to look into her _plans_ for murder.

The dead patient's father was also technically clean. He, too, had been serious when he planned vengeance, but his business kept him away from the doctor's residence. Since he lived overseas, and had no connections to the doctor's land of residence, it was completely impossible for him to commit the murder, directly or otherwise.

After clearing everyone present, Pinkerton sat down in a stupor. So far, all suspects proved to be innocent of the crime. They had all good reasons why they could not have killed him--or would not have, for some--and each one was cleared of any charges. Tesla, however, smiled wisely as he left to go home. This one event, though relieving now, would plague him for the rest of his life. Even as he attempted to retire into a quiet life in Antei, this dirty business he had secretly been involved in would haunt him forever.

****

The End

Closing comments: So, how did he do it? Dr. Philemon was not stabbed, nor strangled, nor shot by a projectile. He had no allergy to the food, and it had not been poisoned by the cook. Philemon owned no animal that gave him an allergic reaction, and no animal could have crept in without the meticulous Tesla noticing. It was proven that Tesla was in the study at the time of death, and this room was on the opposite side of the house.

So, how did he do it?

There are clues scattered about in the story. If you pay close attention, you'll discover how he was able to do the murder, and get away with it. Scroll down for the answer, but only do so if you are stumped and cannot come up with a conclusion. Again, try solving the mystery yourself before scrolling down.

Remember that Dr. Philemon was wearing slippers when he dined--he always wore them at dinner, because his habit was bathing after his final meal of the day. Also, remember that he had a medical problem with arachnids--that is, he was probably violently allergic to them. Tesla, knowing the doctor's schedule due to his scrutiny, would have known when exactly the doctor would dine. Knowing about the man's ill reaction to arachnids, Tesla released a venomous spider in the room near the doctor's chair, and then left the room to attend to his studies. The doctor might have seen Tesla leave (probably just thinking that he had gotten himself a snack), but he would not have suspected anything. By the time the spider crawled up to Philemon's exposed foot and bit him, Tesla would have made it to the study and would have plenty of time to continue his work. The bite of the spider, though very poisonous, would also be very small--too small for a private investigator like Pinkerton to notice.

The case would remain unsolved. 


	29. Mother Earth: The Tale of Hellion

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Mother Earth: The Tale of Hellion

Sometimes, knowing the future hurts. I should know. I'm candidate for Seer.

My story begins on the day of my birth. I turned twenty-two that day, so I was already well about in exploring the world and making my mark on society. I was a sprightly little thing, not too strong but well-versed in the field of magic. My parents were both wizards and I myself have had a sort of prodigal power for some time now. I was named after the sun, but believe it or not, my best magic originates in the Earth.

On the day of my birth, I left my country in search of adventure. I had long ago paid homage to the deaths of my parents; now I was out and about in the world, ready to take whatever life could throw at me. I was financially well-off for my period, as mother and father were both influential soothsayers, so I didn't need to worry about money for at least a year. My first destination was a land so far off, no mapmaker had ever bothered to record it. I knew it well, for I often had dreams of the place.

My name is Hellion. I am a female, 22 years of age, and of reasonable beauty and grace. I have very short blonde hair, so short that some mistake me as a man, and bright gray eyes that shine with a great knowledge about many things. For a face I have something reasonably attractive, and for a body something quite sufficient. I wear an ordinary brown habit like the monks of Qlon Temple, and in my hand I carry the traditional staff of a mage.

As one who was well into adulthood, I decided to see the world one day. Having no ties or duties to anything except myself, I set about exploring this vast world which we all live in. The land I wanted to visit first was a place uncharted to all save a few: a land called Tyre.

Tyre was quite an exotic place. For a land unknown to the bravest of explorers, it certainly was well-populated. It held a massive navy, and was positioned by a river that would wield easy trade routes. The merchant's guilds that dotted Tyre were quite popular, and the diversity in that land was second to none. There went an expression in that land that stated "if you can't buy it in Tyre, then it probably doesn't exist". The first time I visited this land, I was surprised to see how accurate this expression actually was.

Tyre lies to the extreme-far east of the Holy Kingdom of Harmonia--in fact, well across the vast oceans that separate the continents. Few outside of its locality know of its existence, despite the fact that a great deal of diversity and trade circles around it. Being a psychic, I could find it with the greatest of ease; it was like finding grass in a meadow.

I hired a fearless sailor with an impressive schooner to take me to Tyre. As this was my first real destination on my journey, and quite possibly my last (I hoped to find a husband there somewhere), I was eager to let go of a little more money than I should have. The sailor, a brave man named Markus, was himself eager to explore these lands, so we struck a deal and set out into the vast oceans.

The journey to Tyre cost me 45,000 bits and almost a week of sailing. In this time, I learned the basics of seamanship, like tying knots and astronomical readings (I actually impressed a few sailors with my own skills) and how to weather storms. We certainly experienced our fair share of _those_!

One week later, we safely arrived on the shores of Tyre. Not only was it a significant naval power, as I mentioned before it was also big in the trade business. I vowed to one day participate in a healthy export of my own goods; for the moment, though, I bade Markus farewell and set about exploring the lands.

O Tyre, you are perfect in beauty. Your domain is on the high seas; your builders brought your beauty to perfection. Men of Put served as soldiers in your army. They hung their shields and helmets around your walls, bringing you splendor. Men of Arvad and Helech manned your walls on every side; men of Gammad were in your towers. They hung their shields around your walls; they brought your beauty to perfection.

Many countries did business with you because of your great wealth of goods; they exchanged silver, iron, tin, and lead for your merchandise; they exchanged slaves and articles of bronze for your wares. Men exchanged horses and mules and ivory and ebony for your goods; they gave turquoise, fabrics, linen, coral and ruby; they traded wheat, confections, honey, oil, and balm for your wares. They gave wine and wool, cassia, calamus, lambs, rams, and goats; they gave spices and precious stones and gold, and traded beautiful garments and multicolored rugs.

__

O Tyre, the east wind will break you to pieces. All your goods will sink to the sea in a shipwreck, and all who handle the oars will abandon their ships; the mariners and all the seamen will stand on the shore. They will raise their voice and cry bitterly over you; they will sprinkle dust on their heads and roll in ashes. They will shave their heads because of you and will put on sackcloth. They will weep over you with anguish of soul and with bitter mourning. As they wail and mourn over you, they will take up a lament concerning you:

"Who was ever silenced like Tyre, surrounded by the sea? When your merchandise went out on the seas, you satisfied many nations. With your great wealth and your wares you enriched the kings of the earth. Now you are shattered by the sea in the depths of the waters; your wares and all your company have gone down with you. All who live in the coastlands are appalled at you; their kings shudder in horror and their faces are distorted with fear. The merchants among the nations hiss at you; you have come to a horrible end, and will be no more."

Ten years into the future, my predictions would come true, and Tyre has since been forgotten from history.

After leaving Tyre, I decided to journey to my next town. Actually, it was no town, but an empty valley with nothing more than bones. No matter where I looked, I saw nothing but whitewashed remains of humans; their skeletons, and nothing more. Long, long ago, before the birth of many nations, this land used to be very fertile; a land flowing with milk and honey, so to speak. The citizens of that land had fought hard and journeyed long for this destination, but now…

Emptiness.

These bones were of the house of Clai. Their bones are dried up and their hope was gone; they are cut off. But…… I found hope for these bones as I wandered through the valley. _Their graves are going to open up again and the dead people will be brought up from them; they will be brought back to the land of Clai, and the very gates of the city will open up again. A spirit will be placed in the people and they will live, and they will settle in this land._

So it is as I have seen, and so it came to pass, many, many years later, when a kind ruler gathered together the survivors and permitted them to live in these lands again. I never did return to that place, nor Tyre, but I know that Clai prospered greatly and later became a great magnificent city; Tyre was reduced to grasslands, and not even a passing army realized that a city had been there before.

I do not bring curses when I travel, only what I see in the future. I cannot help this strange ability of mine, yet it _does_ happen, so I have little control over it. I have seen many things in the future, some so far off that my great-great-grandchildren will be ancient and weary before the events come to pass; others have happened in the span of a second, such as a flock of birds passing over, or even the death of a man.

I explored more cities in my travels to the distant east, and prophesized for many of these lands, whether privately or publicly. I met a famous king while on my journeys, one whom history remembers well for taking my advice. His name was Melachoir, and he even went so far as to pay me for my visions. His future did indeed look bleak, but unlike so many I prophesized for, his future could be changed by his own actions.

That land later became quite famous and prosperous, and would last well beyond my own death. I did leave that place, though, and I brought a mate with me. He, too, was quite gifted in the ways of clairvoyance, and though I was his senior, we got along quite happily and bore many good children.

I decided to journey back to my land of birth when I turned forty-two years old, so in other words, I spent an impressive twenty years abroad. Taking my husband and my then-five children (I did expect at least one more), I hired a boat bound for home. Imagine my surprise (seriously, imagine it, because we all know how difficult it is to surprise a psychic) when I discovered my old friend Markus captaining the boat again!!

On the way home, Markus and I spent many hours catching up on "old times", and I told him of my escapades and my predictions. With my skills three times more powerful than they had been a score earlier, I was able to steer Markus' ship away from any storms, and thus took the hastiest route towards home. Upon reaching familiar shores, Markus declared I would make a wonderful navigator, but I had to humbly decline his offers. My skills laid elsewhere.

With my family in tow, I spent a few more years traveling and foreseeing the future. I was paid handsomely here and their, and with my husband's help, I told of many future historical events. I even told of the Succession War to Geil Ruegner, as well as his own demise in the battle. I spoke of the Golden Era to Barbarossa, but warned him of one who brings back loving memories of old.

After giving hints of a civil war in the empire, I retired to Teien and lived out the rest of my days as a local prophet. I was paid a minimum wage, but after my children left to pursue other careers, and after my husband passed on, minimum wage was quite a lot to live on. All in all, I can say that I've had a pretty good life. And yes, I knew I would be well-involved in that civil war.

Imagine my surprise--once again--when I was asked to succeed Leknaat as Seer for Toran!!

****

The End


	30. The Ballad of the Blue Elf: The Tale of...

Author's note: This story is dedicated to conorp, whose appreciation for these stories is the very reason I write them in the first place.

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The Ballad of the Blue Elf: The Tale of Stallion

Stallion was a little baby elf

You could hold him in the palm of your hand.

He gave a long and lonesome cry,

"Gonna be a runnin' elf, Lawd Lawd,

Gonna be a runnin' elf."

They took Stallion to the racetrack,

Put him in the lead to run,

The road was so long, Stallion was so short,

That he laid down his Wing Boots and he cried,

"Lawd, Lawd,"

Laid down his Wing Boots and he cried.

Stallion started on the right track,

The automobile started on the left,

"Fo' I'd let that automobile beat me down,

I'd run my fool self to death, Lawd Lawd,

Run my fool self to death."

Stallion told his referee,

"An elf ain't nothin' but an elf,

Fo' I let your automobile beat me down

I'll die with these Wing Boots on my feet, Lawd Lawd,

Die with these Wing Boots on my feet."

Now the referee told Stallion,

"I believe my road's a-quakin'."

"Stand back, referee, and doncha be afraid,

That's nothin' but my Wing Boots burnin' wind,

Lawd Lawd,

That's nothin' but my Wing Boots burnin' wind."

Stallion told his ref'ree,

"Look yonder, boy, what do I see?

Your automobile's done been cut off by me,

And you can't run like me, Lawd Lawd,

You can't run like me."

Stallion runnin' on the racetrack,

Til' the soles of his Wing Boots caught on fire,

He ran so hard till he broke his po' heart,

Then he laid down his True Holy Rune and he died,

Lawd Lawd

He laid down his True Holy Rune and he died.

They took Stallion to the racetrack,

And they buried him in the dirt,

An' every car that ever gets cut on off

Flicks the elf sign of respect for Stallion, Lawd Lawd,

Flicks the elf sign of respect.

(And that's why, every time a car is cut off, they show their middle finger--the elf sign of respect)

****

The End


	31. Gon with the Wind: The Tale of Gon

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Gon With the Wind: The Tale of Gon

Long ago, when the Kobolds still lived in the land, there was one warrior whose name was Gon. He was not only braver than all the rest, but he was so noble, kind and good that the people came to call him Sir Gon.

No robbers ever dared to trouble the people who lived near his town, and all the wild animals had been killed or driven away, so the little puppies could play even in the woods without being afraid.

One day, Gon walked throughout the country on one of his exercises. Everywhere he saw the men busy at their work in the fields, the women howling gently in their homes, and the little puppies shouting at play.

"Woof! These people are all safe and happy!" exclaimed Gon. "They--woof--need me no more! But somewhere perhaps there is trouble and fear. There--woof--may be someplace where the pups cannot play in safety, or some woman may have been carried away from her home. Grrr!! Woof! Perhaps there are even dragons left to be slain! Woof! Tomorrow I shall go on a journey and never stop until I find work which only a Kobold could do! Woof!!"

Early the next morning, Gon put on his cloak and all his shining armor, and fastened his Very Neat Sword at his side. Then after packing his provisions and saying goodbye to his family and friends, he walked out of Kobold Village. Down the steep, rough road he went, standing straight and tall and looking brave and strong as a Kobold should look.

On past the forests at the foot of the hill and out across the country he journeyed. Everywhere, he saw rich fields filled with waving grain, and everywhere there was peace and plenty. He continued, until at last he came into a part of the country he had never seen before. He noticed that there was nobody working in the fields. The houses which he passed stood silent and empty, and the grass along the roadside was scorched as if a fire had passed over it. A nearby field of what had even been trampled and burned.

Gon stopped walking past the ghastly scene and looked carefully about him. Everywhere there was silence and desolation.

"Arf! What can be the dreadful thing that has driven all the--arf!--people from their homes?" he wondered. "Arf, I must find out, and and give them help if I can!" But there was no one to ask, so Gon trotted forward until at last, far in the distance, he saw the walls of a city. "Ah! Woof! Surely I'll find someone who can tell me the cause of all this!" So with that, he trotted all the hastier towards the city.

Just then, the great gate of the city opened and Gon saw crowds of people standing inside the wall. Some of them were weeping, all of them seemed afraid. As Gon watched, he saw a beautiful Kobold maiden dressed in white, with a girdle of scarlet around her waist, pass through the gate alone. The gate clanged shut after she left, and the maiden walked along the road, weeping bitterly. She did not see Gon, who was galloping towards her.

"Woof! Why are you crying?" he asked as he reached her side. The maiden looked up at Gon standing there, so straight and tall and confident, and cried.

"Arf! Sir Kobold! Run quickly from this place! Woof, you don't know the danger you're in!"

"Danger?!" blurted Gon. "Arf, arf, arf!! Do you think a mighty Kobold warrior would flee from danger?! Besides, woof, you are here alone, fair girl! Arf, you think a warrior would leave you alone? Tell me the trouble and I'll help you, woof!"

"Arf, no!" she cried. "Run away, woof! You would only lose your life, woof! There is a terrible dragon near! He may come at any moment! One breath from the dragon would destroy you if he found you here! Woof, woof, go quickly!"

"Arf, tell me more!" insisted Gon. "Why are you here alone to meet this dragon? Are you crazy, woof? Are there no _warriors_ left in your town, arf?"

"Oh…" sighed the maiden, "my father, the chief, is old and feeble, woof. He has only me to help him take care of his people, woof. This terrible dragon has driven us from our homes! He's carried away our livestock and ruined our crops, woof! Everyone's hiding behind the walls of the city, woof! This dragon has been coming here for weeks on end, woof! We've been forced to feed him two sheep every morning just to make him go away, arf!

"But, yesterday," continued the maiden, "there were no sheep left to give, woof! He said that unless a young maiden was given to him, he would break down the walls and destroy the city, woof! The people begged my father to save them, arf, but he couldn't do anything! I'm giving myself to this dragon, woof! Maybe if he has me, he'll spare our people!" With eyes flashing with rage and a great, furry arm reaching for his sword, the maiden lost her fear as she looked at Gon.

"Arf, lead the way to this dragon!" he barked. "Show me where he is!!" Turning with a sigh of relief, she led the way to a shimmering pool.

"Woof, this is where he is staying," she whispered. "See, the water is moving! Arf, arf, he's waking up!" Gon growled as he saw the head of the dragon lift from the pool. When the enormous creature saw Gon, he gave a roar of rage and plunged towards him. The smoke and flames flew from his nostrils, and he opened his great jaws as if to swallow the Kobold.

Gon shouted and, waving his Very Neat sword above his head, charged at the dragon. Quick and hard came the blows from the mighty sword; it was a terrible battle. After a few brief skirmishes, the dragon was wounded at last. He roared with pain and plunged at Gon, opening his mouth to snap at the furry head. Gon clenched his teeth, then struck with all his strength straight down through the dragon's throat, and with a groan, the creature fell down, dead.

Yelping for victory, Gon called the maiden to his side, tears of amazement streaking her face.

"Woof! Give me the sash around your waist, my lady!" requested Gon. The lady complied, and Gon wrapped the girdle around the dragon's neck. Using all his strength, Gon dragged the dragon with him by that little silken ribbon, all the way back to the village so that the people could have proof of the creature's demise.

When they saw Gon bringing the damsel back safely, and the slain dragon with him, they threw open the gates of the city and sent up great shouts of joy. The chief heard them and came out from his palace to see why the people were shouting. When he saw his daughter safe, he was the happiest of them all.

"O brave warrior!" he barked. "Arf! I am old and weak! Stay here, woof, and help my guard my people from harm!"

"Arf! I'll stay as long as you'll need me!" answered Gon. So Gon lived in the village and helped the old chief take care of his people, and when the chief died, Gon was made chief in his stead, and married his daughter. The people felt happy and safe so long as they had such a brave and good Kobold for their leader.


	32. Now You See Him...: The Tale of Fuma

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Now You See Him…: The Tale of Fuma

You can't see me at all. I'm Fuma. I'm hidden, completely out of your reach. Ha, just try and find me. Only a fellow shinobi could possibly scout out where I am. I'm a master at disappearing, but then again, I _am_ a ninja. Did you expect me to be an easy prey? Well, I'm not. I'm as silent as the grass and as invisible as air. I move as quick as a deer and I can become as still as a rock. You cannot see me, my name is Fuma, and if you want my assistance, it's going to cost you.

Uh… wait a second…

This can't be right…

Where am I supposed to go? The map says "you are here", and yet, I don't know where "here" is. Oh dear. I seem to be lost.

Where am I? This place is so big and so gigantic that I shall never find my way around. Oh dear. It seems… no, that can't be right. Can't be! I'm a ninja! Ninjas don't…

Rats. It's true. I'm _lost_! I don't know where I am! This is nonsense! Ninjas don't get lost! This is absurd! _We're_ supposed to make others feel lost! We can't lose ourselves in the mists of confusion! Ack, where am I?!

Hm… what to do? All right, I'm lost, and I don't know my way around. Urk, I need to use the bathroom. And I'm getting hungrier. It's starting to grow dark, too. Well, what should I do? Hm…

Okay, I think I'll ask somebody for assistance.

"Excuse me, sir?" No answer. Huh? What's wrong?

"Ma'am? Ma'am, will you please help me?" Nothing! She walked right past me, almost as if she couldn't--

………

Oh, no.

Hahaha…

………

…She can't see me.

He can't see me either.

Nobody can see me!

But, I'm lost! And I need to be somewhere! And I need to eat and use the bathroom!

Help! Somebody help me!

They can't! They can't see me!

Help, I'm lost! Help, please!

Nobody even knows that I'm here!! I'm lost! I'm lost! Nobody can see me! They can't see me at all! I'm invisible! They can't see me at all! Not at all!

Proverb written on a sign near Rokakku: _Be careful what you boast about._

****

The End


	33. The Caretaker: The Tale of Ledon

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The Caretaker: The Tale of Ledon

The caretaker of Mt. Tigerwolf inn, well he steals from the rich and poor--

The caretaker of Mt. Tigerwolf inn calls for Kessler if he wants to rob more--

I wanna tell him that he's doin' somethin' wrong but I gotta build an immunity--

Cuz' the caretaker of Mt. Tigerwolf inn, he whips up a really mean tea,

Oh yeah, he whips up a really mean tea!

__ ****

The End

Closing comments: Well, that's the very last story, no joke! I hope that everyone who read the first part of my Suikoden trilogy dedicated to the unknown players enjoyed each and every tale! I plan on making a sequel that features all of the Suikoden 2 characters as well, so keep your eyes open! Oh, and for the third part, I won't be doing Suikoden 3, because I've never played it (who has?). Instead, I'm going to do "Pairings" of two or more obscure characters (i.e. Alan and Grenseal). As always, feel free to email me if you want to see anybody featured! Ciao!


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